


Things you said

by OtterAndTerrier



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Deathly Hallows, Domesticity, F/M, Family, Half-Blood Prince, Humour, Order of the Phoenix - Freeform, Post-War, Pre-Epilogue, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-06
Updated: 2016-09-22
Packaged: 2018-05-31 15:56:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 27,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6476590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OtterAndTerrier/pseuds/OtterAndTerrier
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In all the years they've known each other, many things have been said. Collection of short stories based on a list of prompts. Rated M for a couple of chapters, but most of it is G.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Things you said through your teeth

**Author's Note:**

> Last year, I hit a follower milestone on Tumblr and decided to offer fics on demand, based on a list of prompts. Once the requests stopped, I decided I wanted to use all the prompts anyway, and began taking every opportunity to do so, such as Christmas, Valentine's Day, Ron's birthday, etc. Between last year and this one, I've written a lot, and yet I hadn't posted all of those stories here. The reason was that, instead of posting them separately, since they all coexist happily in my headcanon universe, I could wait and post them together in chronological order.
> 
> The following is not a multi-chapter per se, though, but a collection of drabbles and one-shots, all revolving around _things they said_ at some point of their lives together. Some of the stories are an immediate follow-up of others, some aren't, and while there isn't a plot and you can comfortably read these as stand-alones, they don't contradict each other. The timeline starts at OotP and goes up until after they have their children, and the ratings go from K to M, so there's a bit of everything!
> 
> There will be 23 or 24 fics in total (I have a couple left to write) and I'm going to try and post twice per week. Thanks a lot to my beta-reader, jenahid!
> 
>  ** _Please, if you read and enjoy these, do leave a comment!_** Remember that fandom creators don't get any other form of payment, yet they give their time and skills for free for your entertainment. Surely you can take two seconds to say something to show them your appreciation :) (Seriously, this is the fruit of _months_ of work. Faves are greatly appreciated too, but I'd like to hear something from you.)
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** I'm not making money out of this and it all belongs to JKR; however, I'm willing to take care of these two for free. Just to make sure they're treated right...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Rating:** G

Ron sneaked a look into the open door, beyond which Hermione was unpacking. He took a breath, strolled into the room and plopped down on Ginny’s bed.

‘Hey.’

‘Hi,’ Hermione said, looking up and giving him a quick smile before carrying a pile of clothes to the wardrobe. ‘Where’s Ginny? I thought she was coming back.’

Ron resisted the urge to wince.

‘’s gone to help with dinner,’ he replied. As a matter of fact, after having shown Hermione the bedroom they’d be sharing during their stay at Grimmauld Place, Ginny had made a quick detour to the loo… and then she’d been intercepted by Ron telling her that their mum was looking for her. He didn’t think his mum would give him away: she’d probably been just about to call for help anyway. That would get both Ginny and his mother off Ron’s back for a bit. And a little time alone with Hermione was all he’d wanted, really.

He’d gone to her house along with his dad to fetch her, but for the past half hour since they’d Flooed back here they hadn’t been able to exchange more than a few words. His whole family had wanted to greet her, of course, and she had been introduced to some of the members of the Order, and asked questions that had only been partially answered about where they were and what they were doing there. But she was _his_ friend, and it had been _his_ idea to invite her; Ron only wanted a couple of minutes in which to have a proper conversation with her.

And ask a question that had been niggling at his brain for the past weeks.

‘So, how’s your summer been so far?’ he asked casually.

Hermione shrugged, pulling out her school robes and hanging them neatly.

‘Regular. It’s only been a couple of weeks, hasn’t it?’

‘Haven’t travelled anywhere this year?’

‘Well, we went to The Lakes for a couple of days, my parents have got friends there,’ she explained. ‘It was really nice to wind down after… everything. Have you ever been there?’

‘Uh, no.’

Hermione gave him a curious look.

‘Really?’

‘Yeah. So—’

‘Have you been anywhere at all? You look like you’ve spent a lot of time in the sun,’ Hermione asked, peering into his face in a way that made Ron a bit too self-conscious.

‘Just outside,’ he mumbled, rubbing the side of his nose. Flying, harbouring hopes for things he had no way of achieving…

‘So you haven’t gone abroad at all?’ Ron insisted, looking at her for anything that might contradict her answer.

‘No; I’ve just told you—’ Hermione interrupted her sentence as she caught Ron’s expression, and he quickly wiped off the satisfied smile that had begun to creep into it. She scowled at him. ‘Have I’ve gone to visit Viktor, is that what you’re asking?’

He didn’t flinch at her steely tone.

‘I’m only making conversation,’ Ron said, unable to help a smirk. ‘How did he take it?’

Her nostrils flared angrily.

‘That’s none of your business.’ She took a couple of books out of her trunk and set them on her night table without looking at him.

‘You did tell him you weren’t going, didn’t you?’ Ron pressed, no longer smiling. ‘Made it clear that you—’

‘Honestly, Ron!’ Hermione burst out. ‘Why do you care?’

Ron’s ears went red at the last word.

‘Just making sure you didn’t do something stupid,’ he countered.

‘I’m sorry?’ She braced her hands on her hips, raising her eyebrows in incredulity. ‘Something _stupid_?’

‘Yeah, like going to a completely foreign country with a bloke you barely know and who’s years older than you!’ Ron said hotly. Why couldn’t she see that? Of course he _cared_ ; that’s what friends did. She shouldn’t have needed to ask why—it was obvious.

‘I can look after myself, Ron, how many times do I need to say it?’ Hermione snapped, glowering up at him. Her face turned bright red when she spoke again. ‘You’re not my older brother!’

‘I know,’ Ron said through his teeth.

‘Do you?’ she demanded. They stood glaring at each other.

 _Do_ you _?_ , he wanted to ask, but for all his cocking up so far, Ron knew that’d be against his better judgement.

That realisation had been something he’d been struggling with for months now. Damned if he didn’t know that yet.

‘Yes,’ he said evenly.

She glared at him some more for good measure, but her scowl relaxed slightly.

‘That’s settled, then. Put this over there,’ Hermione told him, handing him Crookshanks’ basket.

He did so in silence, confused at what was exactly settled. When she said he wasn’t her brother, she meant that he didn’t have any rights to watch after her. But when he did, it meant something else entirely. She didn’t know that; she _wouldn’t_ know that, and _he_ had to forget about that. Whatever. But he still didn’t think Krum was a good idea, and if she thought Ron was done talking about it, then—

‘So how’s _your_ summer been?’ Hermione asked, her casual tone a little too forced. ‘You mentioned things had been a bit tense with your family, right? What was that about?’

Ron sighed. He was going out of his mind. This was the stuff they were supposed to be talking about, not bloody Bulgarian Seekers. She clearly didn’t care about Krum that much, anyway; she’d ditched his invitation so she could come and stay here, hadn’t she? As a friend, at least, Ron had one-upped the git.

_That’ll show him._

Hermione was here, and Ron got to spend the rest of the summer with her. At the moment, that prospect was good enough for Ron to pretend anything was settled.


	2. Things you said that made me feel like shit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you read and enjoy these, please leave a comment! Remember that fandom creators don't get any other form of payment, yet they give their time and skills for free for your entertainment.
> 
>  **Rating:** T for language

_‘Ron? But... are you sure? I mean–’_

At the time, the immediate bitterness that the words caused in him had been soon enough forgotten amidst his own disbelief and the promise of a more substantial reward—a broomstick, new and all his…

The congratulations that followed from everyone who had dropped by Grimmauld Place that day, the awe he felt at his present and the celebratory dinner held that night helped push the taunts of his brothers and Hermione’s shocked expression even further away from his mind.

When he finally went to bed, however, the scene replayed in his head uninvited, the disbelief in her voice cutting through him like a cold knife as he stared blankly at the ceiling.

Of course it had been unexpected, and quite unbelievable, to get a Prefect badge. Ron didn’t deny that. He wasn’t top of the class amongst the Gryffindor boys, he’d never shown much in terms of authority, like Hermione did (how could he, when Harry and he had broken more rules that he could remember for the past four years?), and he was sure he didn’t have anything else that could have convinced Dumbledore to make _him_ a Prefect.

That didn’t mean it hadn’t hurt the fact that other people thought the same, and especially, _that one person_.

She’d tried to fix the way her words had come out, and then she’d acted all natural about it, as if she was really pleased that it was him, not Harry, the one who’d be patrolling corridors with her for the next three years, as if he was the obvious choice, but it didn’t matter. It still made him feel like shit. He could parade in front of her with all the fancy badges and cups he could think of, and he knew she’d be shocked they’d ever given them to him on the first place.

Ron turned to his side and punched his pillow into a more comfortable shape, scowling into the darkness of the room. He hadn’t even wanted that bloody badge— _didn’t_ want to. He wasn’t cut out for that, not like she was. If he so much as tried to tell someone what they were or weren’t supposed to do, they’d laugh in his face just like the twins had when Hermione had threatened them. But it was done, anyway, wasn’t it? They’d made him a Prefect whether she liked it or not, and Ron hadn’t asked them to, which meant that, somehow, he’d earned it. That should be enough for anyone.

Problem was, he was having a hard time convincing himself that it was when it all felt like a big joke at his expense. At least, Ron thought, if tomorrow they told him that they were terribly sorry but it had been a mistake, that they had put the badge on the wrong envelope, he’d still have his new broomstick. And, maybe, it’d make Hermione feel so guilty at being right that she’d be driven to find ways to make him feel better about it for the rest of the year.

_Ha._

At least he’d still have his new broomstick.


	3. Things you said with no space between us

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you read and enjoy these, please leave a comment! Remember that fandom creators don't get any other form of payment, yet they give their time and skills for free for your entertainment.
> 
>  **Rating:** G

Everything happened so fast that her body reacted sooner than her mind, tensing and leaving her cold when only minutes ago she’d felt so warm, as she’d basked in the happy memories she had used to conjure her Patronus. One moment Hermione was marvelling at the bright silver otter she had produced, vaguely wondering why it had taken that shape; the next, Dobby was in the room and Harry was telling them all to run because Umbridge was coming.

Her brain finally getting out of its initial stupor, Hermione ran for the door only to find herself stuck at the centre of the crowd jamming the exit. Looking around wildly, she spotted Harry still standing with Dobby in the middle of the room.

‘Harry, come on!’ she shrieked. She spared enough time to see him pick up the house-elf and sprint towards the door as well; then, as she was pushed closer to the threshold, she turned around in search of her other best friend—

And saw him fighting through the knot of people to get to where she was.

When they made it out into the corridor, they both turned left on instinct; it was the fastest way to Gryffindor tower. Ron was hot on her heels (or rather, she was on his, although he was visibly trying not to leave her behind); on looking back, however, Hermione no longer saw Harry following them. There was no way they could wait for him. They could only hope he’d manage to dodge Umbridge.

They had just rounded a corner when there was a yelp on the corridor they’d left behind. Hermione startled and almost stopped, but Ron, without looking back, reached out a hand and tugged at her arm to keep her moving.

That was when it occurred to her that if Umbridge was hoping to catch them all, there was no way she was working alone. Someone must be following them—perhaps Dobby knowing about it wasn’t an accident and they had been expected to run, which meant…

‘Ron—we can’t go back to the Common Room!’ she panted, without breaking stride. ‘We’ll never make it and—and they might be waiting for us there!’

‘Bloody—’ she heard him mutter. His hand clamped down on her arm again and, instead of continuing towards the staircase, he pulled her into a corridor to the right and behind a tapestry that hid a secret passageway. He pressed a finger to his lips and they stood still, waiting.

It was very close quarters, Hermione noticed as she tried to recover her breath, designed for the discreet passage of one person at a time. Ron’s body was tilted towards the tapestry that hid them, wand at the ready, and their hipbones brushed a little. Not to mention he was still holding onto her upper arm. Suddenly, she realised there was no chance for her heart to stop beating madly inside her chest any time soon.

Hermione clamped her mouth shut to stop her ragged, noisy breaths from giving them away and, a second later, they heard hurried steps on the corridor outside. Ron stiffened, a scowl on his face, his fingers digging a bit more firmly into Hermione’s arm. The steps seemed to be taking their time wandering around, perhaps looking behind statues and into adjoining corridors, but no hand pulled away their tapestry.

After a while, the sounds receded and it was quiet. Hermione let out the air she’d been holding through her mouth, closing her eyes in relief for a moment. It was possible someone was still there, waiting, or that they hadn’t gone far. She gently poked Ron’s arm and mouthed, ‘We should wait.’

Ron nodded and his stance relaxed. As he did so, he noticed what Hermione hadn’t failed to the moment they’d stepped into the passageway: they were standing a little _too_ close together. If it had been someone else, anyone else, it probably wouldn’t have been more than slightly uncomfortable. But it was Ron and, like she’d come to grudgingly acknowledge for the past year, he’d become someone she both wanted to stand as close to and as far from as possible, at the same time. Which therefore made this the best and worst scenario she could have found herself in.

When his brain seemed to have fully registered the situation, he snatched his hand from Hermione’s upper arm as if burnt and jumped back, only to bounce against the wall and, as a result, bump against Hermione again.

‘Sorry!’ he said loudly, flattening his back against the wall while it was Hermione’s turn to press a finger to her lips for him to shut up.

They stood motionless and quiet again, waiting for their hiding place to be uncovered, yet nothing happened. This brought their attention back to the lack of space between them.

Hermione looked up at Ron. He’d turned his head away from her, but he was flushed scarlet. _This_ wasn’t supposed to be happening. Or it was supposed to have passed already, like she’d promised herself. She did not fancy one of her best friends. It was just her hormones acting up, and she couldn’t control that. She’d spent more time with Ron than with Harry, and part of her had become confused. And _he_ might be confused himself, if those bouts of jealousy he’d had since the Yule Ball were any indication, but Ron couldn’t really fancy her, either. They were best friends, and it wasn’t advisable for them to even entertain the idea of trying anything else. Those were the things Hermione kept repeating to herself over and over, whenever she caught her mind wandering to dangerous, foreign territory involving Ron. And yet… if he were to look at her now and lean forwards…

Clearing his throat and pressing his body even further into the wall, Ron shuffled a bit until he was no longer directly in front of Hermione. There he leaned back and stretched his legs until his feet hit the opposite wall, letting out a long sigh.

‘Hope Harry made it.’ He looked at her. ‘Someone gave us away. I still think Smith could’ve done it.’

‘We’ll find out soon enough,’ Hermione said darkly, her previous thoughts dispersing. It was over now. Umbridge had already known about their first meeting; now she knew where they met. They’d never find a better place, or a way to keep this going undetected. And if anyone had been caught, Hermione didn’t know how far their loyalty would hold. Knowing Umbridge’s methods of persuasion, she wouldn’t blame them. That, however, meant they would all face some punishment. The D.A. went against a Ministry-issued decree. They could easily expel them for it.

Her sight became blurry, fixed on the wall.

‘Hey,’ Ron said, bumping her foot with his own. ‘It’ll be fine.’

Hermione doubted that, but she nodded anyway, blinking back the tears. She checked her watch.

‘We should try to get back to the Common Room now. If Filch catches us out here past nine, we’ll still be in trouble,’ she said, biting her lip. ‘And we haven’t got the map or Harry’s cloak…’

‘Come on,’ Ron told her before she could keep lamenting their bad luck. He slid along the passageway, away from the corridor they’d come from, and Hermione followed. Ron stopped when they reached the end and, opening a door that looked like a stretch of wall, peeked cautiously into the corridor.

Hermione stood on tiptoe to look over his shoulder. There was nobody around, but that didn’t mean they were safe. The moment they got out, anything could happen. Even if nothing happened and they made it back to Gryffindor tower safely, there was still the matter of what came afterwards, what Umbridge had found and what she was planning on doing about that. Hermione foolishly wished they could stay in the secret passageway a little longer, just Ron and her, pretend that Ron hadn’t pulled her in there to hide from Umbridge but to tell her something important, something perhaps related to the real reason behind his annoyance towards Viktor…

‘Ready?’ Ron whispered, calling her back to reality. Despite her nodding, she wasn’t. It must have showed on her face: looking away and straight ahead as soon as he’d done it, Ron took her hand in his, enveloping it in warmth. It helped quell the unease in her stomach. Whatever happened, they’d be in it together.

Hermione took a deep breath, curling her fingers around Ron’s.

‘Let’s go.’


	4. Things you said when we were scared

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we jump right to HBP! If you read and enjoy these, please leave a comment! Remember that fandom creators don't get any other form of payment, yet they give their time and skills for free for your entertainment.
> 
>  **Rating:** G

Ron trudged down the staircase to the boys’ dormitories and Hermione noted with some apprehension that he was coming alone.

‘Harry?’ she asked as Ron joined her heavily on the sofa, dropping his trunk next to hers.

‘Still upstairs. I think he’s taking a moment to… say goodbye.’

The word hung almost ominously between them.

‘You really thought he’d want to come back?’ Hermione asked him, a sad smile curving her lips.

Ron shrugged half-heartedly.

‘Now I think of it, not really. S’ppose I just didn’t want to think about it.’

Hermione nodded and they sat in silence as the rest of the Gryffindors dragged their luggage across the Common Room and climbed with some difficulty through the portrait hole. The same air of mourning and a certain helplessness that had been present since the night of Dumbledore’s death seemed now intensified in the wake of his funeral: conversations sounded muted and everyone moved as if underwater.

She knew what Ron meant. She hadn’t really wanted to think about what would happen next, either. With Dumbledore dead, the chances of Voldemort taking over the wizarding world had increased, and of him coming for Harry again as well. Harry wouldn’t be safe anywhere for much longer. There was no choice for him but to carry on the journey he had started with Dumbledore… alone.

Well, not alone. He’d have her and Ron.

Hermione’s surprise at Ron’s statement that they would go with Harry wherever he went was of the same nature as Ron’s reaction to Harry not wanting to come back. It wasn’t really a shock: she’d never thought Ron would say anything different than what he had. It was only her hearing him say it, the resolve in his voice, like there was no question about it. Even though she had meant what she’d said, too, that she wouldn’t turn back, it had made Hermione realize how big this really was and how they were right in the middle of it.

She stuffed her hands under her thighs to stop them from shaking

‘Are you nervous about what might come… what we might have to do?’ Hermione asked Ron, who had been staring off into space.

‘Nah,’ he said, leaning back on the sofa to look at her. ‘In fact I think Voldemort should be scared of us.’

Hermione laughed, feeling some of the tension leave her, at least temporarily.

‘Why, are _you_ nervous?’ Ron asked teasingly. Hermione suspected he was bluffing, hiding how he really felt in an attempt to cheer her (and himself) up. She would have wanted to keep up the game, but found she couldn’t.

Ron’s smirk faltered, reading her silence.

‘Don’t be,’ he said firmly. ‘There’s no point worrying right now, is there? Besides, we’ll be together—’

Hermione’s heart skipped a beat.

‘We—the three of us—you and I and Harry,’ Ron babbled, looking, in Hermione’s opinion, rather panicky.

Her surprise by the lake had also come from the fact that it was _Ron_ saying those words, as it was _Ron_ who was the one who had put his arms around her and let her sob into his shoulder as he stroked her hair. It was Ron, it was always Ron, but he seemed older, and she was completely and utterly—

‘You don’t happen to have any books on Horcruxes in there, do you?’ Ron asked suddenly, prodding her trunk with his toe and making her face turn the same colour of his ears when he looked up and saw she was still staring at him. They held each other’s gaze for far too many seconds, both seemingly unable to look away; Hermione’s breath hitched in her throat… And then Ron’s words caught up with her and she almost laughed. No, she didn’t have any books on Horcruxes, but they knew someone who might.

—in love with him.


	5. Things you said when I was crying

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set on DH with a little parallel, and angsty because hey, it's me. If you read and enjoy these, please leave a comment! Remember that fandom creators don't get any other form of payment, yet they give their time and skills for free for your entertainment.
> 
>  **Rating:** G

_He_ had always been amazed at her capacity to remember almost by heart not only the things she read, but also what people said. It wasn’t something that required any effort for her: she listened, the words stuck with her, and she remembered them, even years after.

Hermione knew he would never think his words were as worthy for her to remember as Harry’s or Dumbledore’s. She dared say he wasn’t even stung by it; it was just another thing he assumed as painful fact. And how could she have ever proven him wrong? How could she have ever told him that _his_ words mattered more to her than anyone else’s most of the time? That, if she collected words, his would be like his rare Chocolate Frog cards, her most valuable possession, deserving of a place of honour in the display of her heart?

Perhaps, if she’d told him, he wouldn’t have left.

Hermione shivered as more tears fell down her cheeks. She had long ago given up trying to wipe them off. There was no concealing her state of mind from Harry, but she managed to keep the crying to herself during the day. That small act, however, made her throat constrict painfully and her head ache. So, at night, her tears had free reign.

Harry noticed—there was no possible way for him to be oblivious to her bloated eyes and the sniffs she couldn’t hold in. But he was aching as well, and he didn’t attempt to comfort her. He didn’t know how. Hermione supposed they should have been able to unite over this, be their mutual source of comfort in the loss they had both endured, lean on each other.

She’d never learnt how to comfort Harry either, though, and she didn’t want his comfort. Sometimes she could barely stand his company, when the locket became too heavy to carry and her thoughts darkened, making her think of all the things she had given up.

The only one who always knew how to comfort both Harry and herself, despite often putting his foot in his mouth and having a knack for insensitivity, was...

 _Him_.

Funny, how he was both the cause and cure to most of her tears.

_‘You won’t have to do all the work alone this time, Hermione. I’ll help.’_

_He hadn’t spoken to her in weeks. He had been against Crookshanks since day one, and he became irrationally angry when she told Professor McGonagall about Harry’s mysterious new broomstick, but days went by and it was undeniable that Scabbers was missing… and that her cat might be responsible for that. She hadn’t even had time to apologize: it was too late and he wouldn’t listen. Because_ she _hadn’t listened, and now his pet was dead. Ron had every right to hate her, but she missed her best friend. Harry didn’t hang around much with her, and it was never the same without Ron. She was alone and so exhausted, sometimes she thought she might crack._

_And she did when Ron said those words, the disgust in his voice replaced by good-hearted fierceness, every offense forgotten in that moment. But it was a good sort of cracking. It felt like a tide of relief._

_He’d never known how much better she’d done after that._

He had come such a long way from the boy who had seemed terrified that she’d hugged him... After Dumbledore’s funeral, he’d resorted more to a physical sort of comfort rather than words that might sound hollow, and it had actually worked so much better for Hermione. Words meant nothing to her when she had _him_ , his arms around her, his presence as warm and solid as it was constant.

A sob escaped her and Hermione’s chest heaved as she gasped for air, desolation filling her once more. She’d thought focusing on the good memories of him, of them, would be a source of comfort on itself, a small reassurance, but it only made everything hurt more. There was nothing comforting in the memories, because all they did was prove she had been wrong. Wrong in loving him, wrong in letting herself believe he could love her back.

There had been no words, no embrace, no comfort from him this time, not as she cried and begged him to come back. She _knew_ the effect the Horcrux had on all of them. She’d told him to take it off. But if he’d cared for her, it wouldn’t have mattered. If he’d really cared, like she did, like she _had_ …

Why had this time been different? What had changed? Would they have another chance to change it back to what it used to be? Those were empty questions for her empty heart. The more she thought about them, the less they mattered.

The wind blew the drizzle directly into her face, making it sting from the cold, but Hermione knew Harry would be bent over the Marauders’ Map spread on the table, and she couldn’t bring herself to face him yet. She wasn’t sure what he was searching for, but she knew she wouldn’t find any of her answers hidden there.

The only certainty she had was that Ron wasn’t coming back, and she had to keep going. And of all the times she’d cried, Hermione was glad this time he wasn’t there to see her falling apart.


	6. Things you said with too many miles between us

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was my mandatory Valentine's Day fic for this year. It's not mushy like last year's fics, and that doesn't have to do with anything but my wish to write DH missing moments. Honestly, I'm done pretending that V-Day upsets me; I can be sad and bitter about my love life any other time of the year no problem. Again, thanks a million to everyone leaving comments in all of these! You guys rock *hug*
> 
> If you read and enjoy these, please leave a comment! Remember that fandom creators don't get any other form of payment, yet they give their time and skills for free for your entertainment.
> 
>  **Rating:** G

Ever since he's come back, Hermione hasn't let him say he's sorry. Between the two of them, "sorry" doesn't happen very often, not with words at least. Except when it's for something big. And Ron knows this is big enough that he'd started rehearsing ways to tell her he's sorry ever since he left them.

He hadn't wanted to say it in front of Harry, though. This isn't "sorry for leaving you"; it's "sorry for leaving _you_ ". But whenever they are alone and Ron starts with 'Hermione, I—', she cuts him off or stalks away before he can get the rest out. She knows what the rest is, and she doesn't want to hear it. She's determined to not give him that.

The sober, submissive demeanour he's adopted with her, that makes him tiptoe around her and apologise if he so much as sneezes, doesn't last after their visit to Lovegood. She's mostly abandoned her icy treatment towards him because she needs him for support against Harry's quickly developing obsession with the Deathly Hallows. Secretly, the ice melted a bit when he told them he hadn't gone back to The Burrow. A bit.

But when Harry's not there and they're not discussing possible Horcrux locations, and Ron tries again—the shield is back up.

So now he does things that might annoy her on purpose, because he's realised that, that way, he can apologise and she can't stop him.

He bumps against her on his way to the loo—

'Sorry, Hermione.'

He drops a tin plate on the floor when she's reading—

'I'm sorry, Hermione.'

She huffs when he won't stop tapping his stupid radio—

'Hermione, I'm _sorry_.'

And all the while, she knows what he's really apologising for. That pleased little lopsided smile of his gives his game away, really, but that's his intention all along. That she _knows_.

With Harry not being good for much lately, Ron's decided to step up. He keeps them moving, keeps them talking—keeps them fed, even, venturing into Muggle villages when he can. Hermione appreciates it but, sometimes, she selfishly wishes he would stop, so that she wouldn't have to reconsider things. It's very weary maintaining the walls you put up to protect yourself when your whole being is trying to bring them down.

Today is one of those days when Ron has announced the conditions were favourable for him to go in search of actual food: they're stationed near a remote little village, there aren't as many Dementors around, it's sunny despite of the biting cold—Hermione doesn't know what that's got to do with anything, but Ron had mentioned it—and they haven't seen any Snatchers wandering about. And, he had said, it felt like a nice day to have some real, fresh food.

Hermione gives her wand one last flick and stares at him: she's charmed his hair a dull brown, made it wavy, with some overgrown stubble to match. For everyone else, he'll be unrecognizable even if they had been looking for him, which they shouldn't be. His eyes and his freckles haven't changed, though. She has to stop staring.

'Be careful,' she says, pressing the small shopping list she's made him into his hand and pulling away before he so much as curls his fingers.

He comes back with two bulging bags that Hermione eyes with apprehension.

'You paid for it with the money I gave you, didn't you?'

'Yeah,' Ron says, starting to unload everything on the table. 'Don't worry, it's mostly what was on that list—'

' _Mostly?_ '

'—and I picked the cheapest I could find,' Ron talks over her. He scratches at his beard, which is very non-Ron, and looks at her, which is very much Ron. 'It's not like we'll eat everything at once, and this way we won't have to go out shopping for a while.'

'He's got a point, you know,' Harry says. She ignores them both and heads to the kitchen.

'Oh actually—' Ron says, following her and stepping between her and the stove, 'I've got this. I'll do the cooking, I don't mind.'

Hermione stares at him suspiciously. He's done that a couple of times before, getting the tea ready, toast, eggs, some simple things. But the way he offers today, the whole way he's acting today, makes Hermione feel like she's missing something that she's supposed to know.

'Fine,' she mutters, turning away. She's not offering to undo the spells on his hair. It might be a good thing for her to pretend there's a strange brown-haired man cooking dinner instead of Ron.

'He's awfully cheery today, isn't he?' Harry asks her quietly. 'You could ask him to do the washing up and he'll probably go with it.'

'I'm not asking him anything!' Hermione snaps. 'And will you please leave that stupid Snitch alone?'

She picks up a book and sits outside the tent. It annoys her that Ron is cheery, and helpful, and _cooking_ , without any apparent reason, because ever since he's come back, she's done her best to forestall his—everything. Everything he might say or do; everything about him. And now it feels like he's preparing to do something, and she doesn't know what, why today of all days. She feels alert, as if something's going to jump on her.

_Constant vigilance._

Hermione shakes her head, angry at herself. Of course something could jump on her at any given time: she's on the run, there're people trying to hunt her down. Whatever Ron might do, it doesn't amount to that. Perhaps the only truth is that she's become paranoid when it comes to him.

They eat in silence. It's not much; it's not incredibly savoury; some bits could have done with more cooking time, but it's warm and filling and one of the best meals they've had in a while. And Ron made it, like it was the most important thing in the world.

She chances a look in his direction, trying to gauge what he's up to, what he's expecting, but Ron is engrossed picking a leftover peel off one of his potatoes.

When they're done, Ron stands up, stretches, and rummages for something in his pocket. Hermione thinks he's about to take out his Deluminator but, instead, he drops two objects on top of the table.

'Dessert,' he says, before waving his wand and levitating the dishes to the sink.

They're Muggle chocolate bars; nothing fancy but more than they've had in months. And only two of them.

'Cheers, mate,' Harry says, a smile, the first genuine smile Hermione has seen since the night Ron came back, lighting up his face as he unwraps one.

'I'll do the washing up,' Hermione says, walking past Ron and setting to work before he can protest, her chocolate bar forgotten on the table.

She needs to think—or rather, to not think—so she takes her time. Somehow in the jumble of her thoughts, ten minutes later, she knows the answer.

Ron is at the table, idly leafing through The Tales of Beedle the Bard; his hair is back to its usual red and there's no beard. He looks up when she walks up to him. Harry is, thankfully, outside.

'You didn't eat yours,' he says, picking up her chocolate bar and offering it to her once more. There's the hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips, but she's feeling too many things at once and amusement isn't one of them.

'I know what day it is,' she says quietly, willing her voice not to waver. 'And you do, too.'

She's seen him marking the dates in a makeshift calendar day after day, after all, saying they shouldn't lose track of it again. How could she have missed it?

Ron's ears are turning red and she thinks she sees a muscle twitching in his face.

'I didn't do anything,' he says casually, looking back down to her book.

'Yes you did,' Hermione says, looking down at the chocolate he's still holding in his now slack hand. 'And… and you need to stop, Ron.'

Ron's head snaps up in surprise. He stands up.

'Hermione, I don't know what you think I did,' he says slowly, 'but—is it so bad?'

Her throat suddenly feels raw, constricted.

'Yes,' she manages to get out. 'Because you can't— _I_ can't—pretend that you didn't—'

It's causing her physical pain to keep the tears from falling, especially as she's looking at Ron in the eye, trying to make him understand, but she has to. Whatever progress they had once done, whatever she'd thought he felt for her, there are too many miles between them now. He looks down.

'I don't want you to.'

That throws her for a loop. She'd thought he was trying to butter her up, like he'd so blatantly done so far. Trying to show her he was here, back, for good. And he was doing that… but perhaps not in an effort to make her forget that he had left. Perhaps showing her was enough for him.

_Isn't it enough for me?_

'Okay,' Hermione says, letting out a breath. She walks to the other side of the table, away from where Ron stands, and grabs her book. Her hand hesitates before she takes the chocolate bar, too. 'Thank you.'

They stand frozen, looking at each other. Ron's got his hands shoved into his pockets. There's this sadness about him, the same kind she feels, as the miles stretch in the small space between them. He picked this date to be extra nice to her, to cook her dinner, to give her chocolate, but he knows that he can't expect anything from her, that he can't play pretend and act as if Valentine's Day means anything to them right now.

He only wants her to know that he hopes it did.

Deep down, she thinks she does.


	7. Things you said under the stars and in the grass (Abyss)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the 2015 Romione Secret Santa (@romionesecretsanta) on Tumblr! It was a lot of fun to take part in that. My recipient coincidentally had pointed me to this very list of prompts for inspiration, so sneaky me took the chance to mark another prompt off. I so love writing about Shell Cottage.
> 
> If you read and enjoy these, please leave a comment! Remember that fandom creators don't get any other form of payment, yet they give their time and skills for free for your entertainment.
> 
>  **Rating:** T

Lying awake in the dark, Ron heard the light shuffling of feet on the wooden floors and the rustling of clothes, and he wondered who else was having trouble sleeping tonight. The front door opened, the light on the porch illuminating the threshold for a moment, and Ron knew at once who it was. He’d recognise her everywhere. And now, after everything that had happened, he’d follow her everywhere just to make sure she was safe.

Ron got up from his camp bed and crossed the small living room, trying not to accidentally bump into the others, as his mind raced with questions. What was she doing up this late? What if she was in pain and didn’t want to bother Fleur? Was she having nightmares, like he’d had since they’d arrived here a couple of days ago?

He closed the door firmly behind him and walked after her.

‘Hermione?’

She stopped in her tracks and turned round, waiting for him, so Ron quickened his pace to catch up with her.

‘Is everything okay?’ he asked, checking for any signs of pain on Hermione’s face. She was only looking questioningly at him, though. ‘I saw you leave and I thought… Do you need anything?’

Hermione smiled, her hands fiddling with the ties of her dressing gown.

‘No, I’m fine. I couldn’t sleep and thought I could come out here and watch the sea for a while… see if the quiet helps.’

‘Oh… I’ll go back in, then—I mean, you’d rather be alone—’

‘I wouldn’t!’ Hermione exclaimed as Ron took a step back. ‘You can stay if you want to…’

Ron looked up at her and saw her looking back at him with a slightly worried expression.

‘Do you want to?’ she asked him softly.

Without a word, Ron moved forward and followed her, wherever she went.

* * *

They sat on the grass, right before the beach stretched towards the sea. Hermione glanced at Ron’s profile next to her: it was selfish, but she had been hoping he’d be awake too. She hoped… she _knew_ he’d follow her.

She was grateful to have a roof, regular, satisfying meals, the company of familiar faces beyond Harry and Ron, even if it was only for a limited time. At the same time, though, there were moments when she felt as if the place was too crowded and she needed to get away for a while. Hermione also missed having Ron almost for herself.

‘Looks like we’ve got a plan again,’ Ron commented. Griphook had finally given them an answer that day and agreed to help them break into the Lestranges’ vault. They had started planning right away, coming out of the little room only when Fleur called them down for dinner. Hermione didn’t feel the same rush of energy and optimism she’d felt as they planned their break-in at the Ministry of Magic: this time, it felt more dangerous. It made her uneasy to think of it.

‘Yes, but at what cost? I still don’t think it’s right what we’re doing to Griphook.’

‘Come off it, don’t start with that again,’ Ron told her, annoyance creeping into his voice. ‘We _are_ going to give him the bloody sword, aren’t we?’

‘Oh, I don’t know, are we?’ Hermione snapped, scowling at him. ‘We could have told him, we could have been straightforward with him!’

‘He would have refused; you know he’s a snarky little fellow as well as I do!’ Ron said angrily. ‘I’m not saying it just because; goblins aren’t house-elves! Bill’s always told us, not all of them are bad, but they’re always trying to get one over on you and pass it as settling debts. And you can’t possibly ignore how nasty this one is—that comment he made about how the wizarding guards could use an Entrail-Expelling Charm…’

‘I’m not defending just Griphook’s interests!’ Hermione retorted, just as angry. ‘Have you considered that perhaps this isn’t going to benefit us at all? What if he realises what we’re doing? What if he wants to take the sword right after we get the Horcrux?’

‘He won’t, and if he asks for the sword right away, then we tell him it can’t be.’

Hermione glared at him, still unconvinced, and opened her mouth again.

‘Look, can we not talk about Griphook right now?’ Ron cut her off, running a hand roughly over his face. ‘I’ve got a feeling we’ll be spending far more hours with him than I’d like for the rest of our stay here.’

‘Fine,’ she said after some internal struggling. ‘But you know I’d hate to be right.’

Ron laughed.

‘No, you wouldn’t! You’d hate the consequences of being right, but you’d still love to be proven right,’ he said, smiling smugly at her.

‘Shut up, Ron.’

They fell silent as the wind picked up, making Hermione shiver as it came through her too-thin dressing gown. She hugged her knees to keep herself warm.

‘You’re cold,’ Ron stated. ‘Here…’

He started shrugging off his jacket.

‘Don’t, Ron, I’m fine and you’ll be cold then—’

‘I don’t mind—’

Hermione put a hand over his arm to stop him. He looked up at her, one arm already out of the big wind-breaker jacket he seemed to have borrowed from Bill.

‘Perhaps… we could share? So neither of us is cold?’

Ron looked surprised for a moment; then, he silently reached a hand out to drape part of the garment over Hermione’s shoulder. She blushed as she scooted closer, clutching at the lapel. It was silly. The physical distance between them had become shorter and shorter ever since Dumbledore’s funeral, to the point that all her doubts about Ron’s feelings had disappeared. That was until he left, however. She hadn’t felt this close to him in months. _She_ hadn’t let him get too close.

‘Better?’ he asked. Hermione nodded. ‘Have you had any pain?’

He’d asked her the same thing yesterday. It made her tremble again, but not from the cold. It wasn’t only that he kept showing he cared; it also reminded her of what he’d done for her… while it happened, and after it’d happened. She’d forgiven him before that, but it was only then that she had fully accepted his truth. What he’d said and what he hadn’t.

‘My muscles still ache a bit, like after you’ve done a lot of exercise, but that’s—that’s all.’

‘Are you sure?’ Ron asked her, frowning at her.

‘What do you mean?’

‘Harry said your arms and legs might seize up for a while, and I thought—’

It was her turn to frown.

‘Why did Harry say that?’

‘I asked him,’ Ron said simply. ‘About how it’d been for him. Have they?’

Hermione chose to shrug instead. She wouldn’t tell him. He didn’t need to worry more than he already was.

‘I’m fine, Ron. I’ll be fine. What about you? Why…?’ She took a breath, bracing herself to ask him something she hadn’t been able to figure out on her own. Looking down for confirmation, she saw it: his hands, resting on his folded knees, still looked awfully bruised and cut, even if the blood had clotted. ‘Why haven’t you let Fleur heal your hands?’

Ron’s expression changed from concerned to caught, and he tucked his hands under his legs, out of view.

‘There weren’t any broken bones.’

‘I’m sure it still hurt. Have you got your wand? Do you want me to fix them for you?’ Hermione offered.

‘No, it’s fine,’ he mumbled, and Hermione had the feeling she wasn’t the only one hiding things from the other. Although in Ron’s case, she didn’t know what was there to hide.

‘All right, if you say so.’ Hermione sighed. ‘You couldn’t sleep, either?’

Ron seemed surprised again.

‘I mean, since you saw me coming here.’

‘Oh. Yeah. I s’ppose it’s all the night watches… it’s made me more alert. Or I think so. I dunno,’ Ron finished, prodding at the grass with his toe.

Hermione stared at him, his profile barely illuminated under the moonlight. He looked tired. Not the obvious tired that came from lack of sleep; he looked the kind of deeply tired she felt. But she knew he wouldn’t say it, because she also knew he was still repenting, trying to atone for what he’d done. Showing them he didn’t regret coming back. So she said it for both.

‘I wish it was over.’

‘Yeah.’

He didn’t take his eyes from the shore, where the low waves came to die in clumps of foam, so she looked at him some more, contemplating…

‘Lie down.’

‘What? Why?’ Ron asked, turning sharply towards her and looking almost scandalized.

‘Because I want to lie down and we’re sharing a jacket, if you haven’t noticed,’ Hermione explained. ‘Come on, I’ll show you something.’

Ron leaned back, indirectly pulling her down to the ground with him, and she felt her face heating up.

‘I don’t know if you’ve ever noticed, but the night sky in the cities is very different from the sky you see here, or at The Burrow or Hogwarts,’ Hermione said, focusing her eyes on the velvety black expanse above.

‘Really?’

‘Yes. I grew up in a city, and the sky is always a little bit orange or purple, from the lights. It looks almost dirty,’ she explained. ‘When I was younger, my parents and I went camping to… to the Forest of Dean. My dad and I lay down on the ground and he told me to look up. I don’t think I’d really seen the sky like that before.

‘It felt mighty, all that dark space… after a while, it feels like the earth has turned upside down and you’re staring down into the abyss.’

She fixed her eyes on the twinkling dots above, contrasting against the bottomless black, until she could almost believe it. It had been her favourite optical illusion ever since that camping trip, but it was both a beautiful and a scary game.

‘I fear I could fall into it,’ Hermione said quietly, an oppressing sensation bearing down on her chest. She felt like she could hardly breathe, the air passing slow and heavy through her nose.

Hermione felt a warm, gentle weight on her and, looking down, she saw Ron’s arm wrapping around her stomach, his long fingers curling on her side. She turned her head to look at him, her racing heart making her feel dizzier than she already was. The way he was facing her, she doubted he’d even looked up at all.

‘I wouldn’t let you,’ he said. It wasn’t a passionate speech; he didn’t look like the hero in a novel, bright-eyed and face screwed in fervent admiration. He said it the way he’d made every promise to her and Harry: with ease, with confidence, straight-faced and bare of any joking. Promises that, to the best of his abilities, he’d carried out. She’d told herself once she wouldn’t open her heart to any more promises from him, not until she was sure, not until he’d showed her, again, that he meant to keep them. But now she would, because he had.

She blinked away the daze of her thoughts, still staring at him. Her fingers let go of the jacket and stretched down, tentatively brushing Ron’s arm, then resting atop the faint swirling scars on his skin. She thought she felt him shiver very lightly next to her.

‘If the world’s upside down, we’re both going to fall anyway, though,’ she said.

‘Perhaps,’ Ron said, shrugging. ‘Or we can try to sit up and make it right again, can’t we?’

The simplicity of a solution she knew and forgot as she got lost in the moment made her laugh, the first time she heard that sound coming from her in a long time, and the dizziness, the shortness of breath, the heaviness dissipated as the earth returned to its original position and they were, once again, not looking down into an abyss but up to the sky, gravity tying them securely to the ground. It could be that they were both talking about more than an optical illusion involving their present physical position, but somehow, Hermione thought the solution still applied.

‘You want to get up?’ Ron asked her, the ghost of a smile curving his mouth. She took a deep, calming breath and let it out.

‘Not yet.’

Hermione turned slightly on her side, resting her head on his shoulder, and his fingers moved further around her back to hold her.

‘Griphook is foul,’ Ron said, ‘but he’s the best we’ve got.’

‘So you’re going to stop calling him foul?’ Hermione asked him, hopeful. He snorted.

‘Yeah, but only because I don’t fancy him making wizard pie out of me when I’m asleep.’

Hermione laughed in spite of herself. She couldn’t see his face, but his voice sounded serious again when he spoke.

‘Not telling him about the sword is the best we’ve got, too.’

She sighed.

‘Truce?’ Hermione offered.

‘Yeah.’

‘I still don’t like it one bit.’

‘I know, but it’s a compromise,’ Ron said with a yawn. ‘See, like here. We’re sharing a jacket. If we don’t compromise and get up at the same time, we won’t be able to put the world the right way up again.’

‘I suppose,’ she said with some wonder at Ron’s analogies, finally feeling like she could fall asleep. If only they could stay out there, on the grass, together…

But the world was upside down, and they had to keep trying to get up, to make it right.

And perhaps one day, when they did, they would be able to hold each other like this and say what they really wanted to say, and the abyss would be just the sky again.


	8. Things you said after we'd won

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this was the first, or one of the first, fics I wrote for this self-impossed prompt challenge. Through the years, I've imagined the aftermath of the Battle of Hogwarts a thousand different ways as far as Ron and Hermione were concerned, read another thousand, and managed to write a few of my own. I'm very pleased about this version, and even more so after it was voted as Best One-Shot at the [Ron/Hermione Awards 2015](http://romioneawards.tumblr.com/) I hosted on Tumblr :D
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy this too, and remember, if you read and like these, please leave a comment! Remember that fandom creators don't get any other form of payment, yet they give their time and skills for free for your entertainment.
> 
>  **Rating:** T

Ron stopped on his tracks as the Fat Lady’s portrait swung open. The others had been about to duck inside before they noticed, backtracking and looking questioningly at him.

‘Coming, Ron?’ Hermione asked, peering into his face.

‘Yeah... just... Harry, d’you mind if we catch up with you in a bit?’ he asked, looking past Hermione. ‘I need to talk to... if she wants to.’

‘Sure,’ Harry said, an odd sort of smile playing on his lips, and then under his breath as he made to turn away, ‘and so it starts.’

‘What?’ Ron asked, wondering if he’d heard right.

‘Never mind. I s’ppose I should say... well... maybe not yet?' Harry trailed off after this nonsensical rambling and waved a hand as if to dismiss he’d said anything at all. ‘I’ll get started on those sandwiches if that’s okay with you.’

‘Go ahead.’ Ron nodded, still rather puzzled. As soon as the portrait had closed behind Harry and his friend was out of earshot, Ron turned to Hermione, who was looking expectantly at him, and any other thoughts seemed to fade away.

‘I know you must be exhausted,’ he started, making himself not break eye contact with her. She needed to know why he had to talk to her now, before the aftermath of the battle really sunk in on him. ‘But is it okay if—I mean, would you mind if we—we went somewhere first? To talk,’ Ron hurried to add, afraid she would misunderstand his intentions. It was too soon for him to cock things up.

To his relief, Hermione beamed at him, her cheeks turning pink underneath the grime.

‘Of course I don’t mind,’ she said, and she slipped her hand into his.

They walked down the corridor, Hermione following Ron’s lead as he looked here and there for a non-destroyed classroom.

He knew he shouldn’t have been so worried. _She_ had kissed him. Ron had kissed her back with all he had, trying to cram years of yearning into a single kiss. Afterwards, though his lips kept tingling and his skin felt too warm where any part of her had touched him, he had forced himself to push it to the back of his mind. There was a battle to be fought, and if he wanted for them to get through it in one piece, all of him needed to be focused on the same goal. But then, he’d told her. While they were waiting for Harry to come back from Dumbledore’s office, Ron had made her promise to keep herself safe when the battle resumed, an irrational request after what had happened, he knew, but he needed the reassurance that she would try. And he’d told her he loved her. She had kissed him earlier because it could have been their last chance; this had been no different.

Ron didn’t get to find out her response to his confession, as at that exact moment, Voldemort’s voice had resounded in the grounds, breaking their already broken selves into a million pieces.

He finally found a classroom with minimum wreckage and led Hermione inside. The battle was over now, and they finally had time to figure out everything that had happened between them. Doubt was starting to niggle at him. What if, now that she really had to own up to it, she realized they had gone too far too soon, moved by fear?

Ron swallowed hard as he closed the door, the morning sun shining through the broken windows, shards of glass glinting on the floor and over the desks. He turned uncertainly towards Hermione, measuring his words, trying to find a good start…

She cleared her throat softly.

‘I think Harry was trying to congratulate us,’ she said, still looking flustered.

‘You mean…’ Hermione nodded, rolling her eyes a little. ‘But why didn’t he?’

‘Well,’ she said, licking her lips, ‘with our record, perhaps because he isn’t sure about… where we stand, and he didn’t want to muck up.’

_Where we stand._

‘I was hoping we could discuss that now?’ Ron blurted out very quickly, before his nerves ate him up.

Hermione smiled at him again, though Ron noted now how nervous she really was, and she said, ‘I thought so.’

They looked at each other openly for what felt like ages, and Ron had the strange sensation of everything that had stood between them crumbling down at last, leaving them bare. Suddenly all of the questions he had prepared, whether she’d meant the kiss, what she would have said to him if Voldemort had spoken two seconds later, whether she was sure she didn’t want to take back everything, all of that seemed pointless because he knew.

And as a mix of realization and relief hit them, they both started laughing. It began as something bubbling in their chests, coming out as a hesitant chuckle, until it developed into full-blown, body-shaking laughter, and neither of them was completely sure what they were laughing about anymore as they tried to catch their breaths.

Once they had calmed down, feeling more at ease with the situation, Ron spoke again.

‘I think the only thing I need to ask you right now is...’ He inhaled deeply and she smiled in encouragement. ‘Will you be my girlfriend, Hermione?’

‘Yes,’ she breathed out, and they both took a step forwards, closing the physical distance separating them. Ron placed a hand on her cheek and leaned down, seeing Hermione’s eyelids flutter shut and feeling her breathing on his lips before he closed his eyes as well—

‘Wait!’ she cried out, putting a hand over his mouth where her lips had been about to be. Ron was so surprised that he kissed her fingers without thinking, almost by reflex. His ears burned but Hermione just giggled, taking her hand away and cradling it against her middle.

‘I just realized,’ she explained, ‘that I didn’t get to say it back... what you said in the Great Hall.’

Ron felt growing even hotter and wished they would be kissing already, to stop him from embarrassing himself.

‘You don’t have to... really, it was stupid, I shouldn’t have—’

‘You didn’t mean it?’ He thought she sounded disappointed.

‘Of course I did! It’s only that—it wasn’t the right time, was it? I didn’t expect you to—I just wanted you to know,’ he mumbled, now actually feeling dizzy from the heat coming off him.

‘I think it’s clear we’re above normal timing, Ron,’ Hermione said darkly, and he chuckled. ‘I’m glad you said it when you did. I needed to hear it.’

‘You did?’

She nodded.

‘It hasn’t been easy, has it? There have been times when I tried to make myself hate you, but... I couldn’t. Because you always came back and made it right, and ultimately... I just had to face the fact that I—I love you too.’

‘Really?’ he practically whispered, his heart pounding inside his throat.

Hermione sighed loudly in exasperation.

‘Yes, Ron, unbelievable as it is to you, really!’

But by the time she finished her sentence, Ron had already swooped down to her, arms slipping around her and hands pressed on her back, bringing her closer as he finally tilted his head and kissed her. Where before there had been urgency, now there was promise, the knowledge that they could do this again, and again, and again, in any possible way; that forever didn’t have to be a single, frozen instant, but a collection of them.

‘Took you long enough to cotton on to that one, didn’t it?’ Hermione said breathlessly, breaking an inch apart.

‘Like you’re one to talk!’ Ron protested, smiling when he felt her fingers threading through his hair and gently brushing his neck.

‘Oh, but I already knew,’ Hermione replied, looking at him through sleepy eyes. ‘Friends don’t look at each other like that.’

He supposed she was right, but that had long ago stopped being a shock.

‘I don’t know about that.’ Ron yawned, thinking of his bed and how bummed he would be if she decided to go to her old dormitory. ‘We’ll still be friends, won’t we?’

‘Will you always try and get the last word in?’ she teased.

‘’Course I will. Don’t expect that to change anytime soon.’ Ron winked, making her laugh. Hermione moved her arms from his neck to his waist, releasing him from his required new hunched up position to make up for the height difference. It left his neck with a crick, but he thought he could live with that.

She pressed her face against his chest and he could feel her smiling as she said, ‘I think I can live with that.’


	9. Things you said when you were drunk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now, this one was actually the first "drabble" I wrote in the series! Drunk writing is fun (writing drunk people I mean... writing while drunk is also really fun, wish I could do it more often).
> 
> If you read and like these, please leave a comment! Remember that fandom creators don't get any other form of payment, yet they give their time and skills for free for your entertainment.
> 
>  **Rating:** T

Hermione’s drink sloshed down to the floor, adding to the existing layer of stickiness, but she noticed none of this. The figure in front of her turned round and she gasped—finally the one he was looking for. In any other circumstances, she would have recognized him a mile away, always. Presently, it took her eyes a couple of seconds to focus, and the dim lighting of the pub didn’t do her any favours.

‘Ron!’ she said, grimacing at how high-pitched her voice sounded but beaming immediately after as Ron’s own slightly glazed eyes took in her presence.

‘’Emmione!’ he cried thickly, moving towards her and swooping her off the ground without warning. One of his hands was holding a bottle and Hermione was still clutching to her tankard, so when he tried to spin her around, Hermione slipped from his arms, her feet dragging on the floor, and she stumbled against him, causing them both to lose their balance and collide with the group right behind them.

‘Ron, watch out! My drink!’ Hermione lamented.

‘We’ll get you ’nother one,’ he said, slurring his words a bit and smiling lazily at her as he took the tankard from her. ‘What’s this stuff, anyway?’

He gulped down the rest, licked his lips in appreciation, and dropped both her jug and his bottle on a table before placing his arms around her waist.

‘Was really good.’

‘I know,’ Hermione said, still grinning widely and, some part of her thought, slightly unnaturally.

Ginny was coming of age and, after a family gathering that still felt clouded by the aching absence of Fred, her brothers had convinced her to throw a small party for her friends elsewhere, to celebrate one of the perks of being 17 in the wizarding world.

Hermione had resisted drinking alcohol beyond Butterbeer for a while, but it was hot and they were dancing, and drinks went from hand to hand. Soon enough she found herself relaxing, her movements less calculated but more freeing, her soul lightening as she started to find everything delightfully funny. She didn’t think she’d had this much fun in years, and as she danced with Ron, she felt like they were finally being what they were—young. Just for one night, it was nice to put their thoughts and feelings on pause, to at least pretend they didn’t have a care in the world other than dancing and laughing with their friends. Alcohol, Hermione had found, helped enormously with the pretending.

Ron dropped his head on her shoulder, pulling her closer, and she shivered. He buried his face into her hair and mumbled against her neck.

‘Yer ’air is so fluffy, ’Ermynee.’

‘Thanks,’ she scoffed, slapping his shoulder blade.

‘Ow! Why’re you angry?’ Ron complained, lifting his head to look reproachfully at her. ‘’Twas a compliment. I love yer ’air so much.’

He dipped down his head again and kissed her neck, making Hermione giggle. He then rubbed his nose softly against it, before sucking on the skin right behind her ear.

‘Rooon!’ Hermione moaned, breaking apart. ‘There’s a mill… a mill…’

She huffed in frustration when she couldn’t get the word out, feeling as if her tongue had become tangled up.

‘A _million_ people around us!’

‘Sod ‘em,’ Ron said, going for her lips instead. She didn’t pull away, and despite the fog in her brain, she knew the reason Ron was being so insistent… and she so willing to comply. Their trip to Australia hadn’t been easy, but at least they had been away from the misery and together, with loads of alone time to explore the most physical parts of their new relationship. When they came back, however, they had been reminded of all the pain, of how difficult it really was to carry on with life, and with fewer opportunities to be on their own. Even though they hadn’t talked about it, the frustration was palpable.

‘You know what we should do?’ Hermione asked, dazed, after breaking their kiss. ‘We should go home and get—no, _not get_ — _not get_ any sleep.’

Ron looked at her, looking so adorably confused that she reached out a hand and ran her fingers clumsily along his frown.

‘What? You want to sleep?’

‘No, I said _not get_ , gettit?’ she said, giving him a meaningful look.

‘No, I don’t,’ Ron replied, still looking very much puzzled.

Hermione rolled her eyes.

‘We go home but we don’t _sleep_.’

‘Then why d’you wanna go home? I don’t wanna go home,’ Ron whined.

‘Because I want to sleep with you!’ Hermione practically hissed, glaring at him.

‘But you just said you don’t want to sleep! You women’re mental.’

Hermione growled and grabbed Ron’s face with both hands, bringing it down to her level and staring intensely into his eyes, trying to pass on the information telepathically.

‘I want to _sleep_ with you, not sleep-sleep. I want to—oh for goodness’ sake, never mind!’

‘No, tell me!’ Ron said, grabbing her wrists when she made to move them away. ‘You’ve got to tell me now!’

‘No, forget about it, if I have to spell it out for you—’

‘I’m drunk; ’course you do—’

‘I _always_ have to spell it out for you!’

‘Tell me tell me tell me tell me,’ Ron chanted, making her arms flail in front of her.

‘I’m saying let’s go have sex, you idiot!’ she shouted.

Ron looked so baffled for a moment that it made her miss the shocked glances from a couple of passers-by.

‘Really?’ he said, eyes wide open.

‘You’re ruining the mood, actually,’ Hermione said grumpily, managing to remove her arms from Ron’s slackening grip. But in one unexpectedly swift movement, one of Ron’s hands pressed against her back while the other swooped down behind her knees and lifted her up. Hermione barely had time to let out a surprised squeak before Ron’s lips crashed against her.

‘Okay,’ she gasped. ‘Mood’s back. Do you want to go, then?’

‘If you say that again,’ Ron said, smirking.

‘What?’

‘You know what. What you wanna do wimme.’

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him.

‘You’re getting away with this only because…’

‘’Cos you’re absolutely pissed, yeah,’ Ron said, when she wouldn’t admit that she was.

‘I want,’ she said slowly and clearly, ‘to go have sex with you, Ron. But if you ask me again, or you take another second, or if you even think of mentioning this tomorrow, I’ll hex you.’

‘Deal.’ He grinned. ‘You’re like, talking dirty, though.’

‘I’m not!’

Ron laughed.

‘From you, it counts as dirty talk. I take it.’

Hermione glared dangerously at him and he cowered.

‘You’re gonna hex me, aren’t you?’

‘Probably… but later.’


	10. Things you said that I needed to hear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This prompt and **Things you said after we'd won** weren't actually on the list; there was an item that said "Things you said [make up your own]" and two people took that chance. Loved both of them and how the fics turned out!
> 
> If you read and like these, please leave a comment! Remember that fandom creators don't get any other form of payment, yet they give their time and skills for free for your entertainment.
> 
> **Rating:** G

‘I’ll stay.’

‘I’ll go.’

They both spoke at the same time and frowned as their brain registered what the other had said.

‘What?’

‘You want to _come_?’

‘You want to _stay_?’

Ron looked at Hermione as they stood on the crowded platform at King’s Cross, arms around each other’s waist, and saw his own confusion reflected in her eyes. Many tears had rolled down her cheeks since they had separated from the others and started trying to say their goodbyes, but she was wiping them off and staring determinedly back at him.

‘I’ll go with you. I’ll just go pack and Floo there, I’ll see you at the feast—’

Hermione shook her head.

‘That’s not what you want, Ron; I’ll stay. I’m staying.’

It was what he’d been hoping against hope to hear for months, and Ron had been sure that what _he_ had just said was what she wanted. Then why was the idea of Hermione staying making him so uneasy?

‘But you want to go to Hogwarts…’ Ron said slowly.

‘No. I want to be wherever you are, and you can’t go back—’

He fought the images of Hogwarts crumbling beneath his feet, of the blood on the flagstones, of a wall being blasted away and taking Fred’s life…

‘I can. I will.’

‘Really, Ron; I’ll stay. It’ll be fine. I’ll take up Kingsley’s offer to work with all of you a—and…’

Ron slid his arms from around her to grab her hands, giving them a little squeeze.

‘Hermione, you’ll never forgive yourself if you don’t take your N.E.W.T.s. And you’ll blame me…’

‘I won’t!’

‘Besides, I probably should take the exams, too. Reckon I won’t make a decent Auror unless I do, will I?’ He smiled at her, but Hermione’s frown deepened.

‘Of course you will, don’t be ridiculous. Just—just take my trunk and let’s go home, Ron. Take me home.’

Her last sentence nearly made Ron’s resolve crumble, and it took all his strength not to scoop her up and Apparate home, wherever that was. Well, wherever _she_ was, there was home, anyway. But he couldn’t do that to her. It was him who had promised he wouldn’t leave her again; he should be the one making the sacrifice.

‘No!’ he insisted urgently, glancing at the Hogwarts Express. ‘You’re going. We’re going, just… get on the train—’

He turned her around and pressed his palms over her shoulder blades, pushing her gently but with a firm hand towards an open compartment.

‘It’ll be brilliant, you’ll see. We’ll get to have the seventh year we missed. We’ll go on Prefect rounds together, and I’ll let you boss me around and schedule me loads of study sessions in the library—’

‘Don’t manhandle me, Ron!’ Hermione shouted over him, turning round and glaring at him.

He smiled sheepishly, dropping his arms, and said, ‘We’ll have loads of _other_ sort of sessions in the library as well.’

Hermione’s mouth turned up in a smile, but her eyes were full of tears again.

‘That sounds lovely, Ron, but I c—can’t let you. You want to stay here and be an Auror, and I’m staying with you. Stop arguing with me.’

‘When have I ever done that?’ he asked, and they both chuckled sadly.

‘Look,’ Ron said with a sigh, extending his hands now tentatively towards her. Hermione took them and stepped closer. ‘I want to stay, but I want to be with you more, and I can’t keep you from going. Look me in the eye and tell me exams don’t matter to you.’

Hermione looked down, unable to give him an honest answer without betraying her resolve.

‘If you want me to go, I’ll go with you. Just say the word.’

‘I don’t,’ she said quietly, closing her eyes. ‘But if you don’t want me to stay and I don’t want you to go, that just means we…’

‘We stick to the original plan.’ Hermione let out a sob and threw herself into his arms. Ron rested his head on top of hers, rubbing his hands up and down her back and trying to control his shaking. ‘You take the train… which is about to leave, by the way…’

‘I can’t do this, Ron,’ she whispered, her voice breaking. ‘What if—if I have a—a panic attack o—or something? I’ll be all al—alone!’

‘You won’t! Ginny’ll be there, and you—promise you’ll go to Madam Pomfrey if you start feeling like that again,’ Ron said, separating a couple of inches from her to make her look at him. Hermione nodded. ‘You can do this. You’re brilliant. But if you really feel like you can’t, you come home. Just don’t come… for _me_ , all right?’

Hermione stared at him for a moment before nodding again. She cupped a hand round his cheek and brushed her thumb over his cheekbone.

‘Thank you. I suppose I needed to hear that.’ She smiled shyly and blushed in anticipation. ‘I love you, Ron.’

‘Love you too,’ Ron said, grinning, before leaning down to kiss her.

Right now, she belonged at Hogwarts and he belonged here: letting her go was his real sacrifice. But they also belonged together, and one day… he wouldn’t have to let her go.


	11. Things you said over the phone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N:** I wrote this one last Christmas for the person behind the **2015 Romione Secret Santa** , since she couldn't take part in the exchange for obvious reasons. It also gave me an excuse for my traditional holiday fic! It was around this time that my SW obsession began, so I couldn't help but throw in a little H/L reference.
> 
> If you read and like these, please leave a comment! Remember that fandom creators don't get any other form of payment, yet they give their time and skills for free for your entertainment.
> 
> **Rating:** K+

Ron checked his watch, then the telephone, then his watch again. He knew Hermione would call at midnight sharp, in case he hadn't been able to make it on time, but he'd still wanted to be there early just in case.

He had powered through December with the promise of seeing Hermione again for more than a couple of stolen moments for the first time in months. It was going to be a hard Christmas, the first without Fred… but it was also going to be his first with Hermione as his girlfriend, and that balanced things out a little bit. His parents had agreed to Ron's suggestion that he invite the Grangers for Christmas, so Hermione would be able to spend time with both families without feeling miserable, like she had all summer. Ron knew how much of a strain it gave her to want to spend time with him and at The Burrow, while feeling guilty for not staying with her parents more, as if wanting to make up for the year she'd made them lose. He had tried as much as he could to reassure her that she'd done her best, that she didn't have to keep trying to pay for it; that slowly but surely, her parents had forgiven her, and that they had to understand she had her own life now, but he also got it. He'd probably feel the same way as her if it was the other way round.

Her parents, most unfortunately, had told her they'd already made the usual plans of spending the holidays in a skiing resort in France, and they hoped she would join them, something that Hermione took to mean 'or else we'll hate you forever', but that Ron didn't believe would be in the Grangers' minds at all. And so, days after he'd finally got her back, Ron had had to let her go again.

Before leaving, Hermione had asked him to go check the number of the telephone box in the village of Ottery St. Catchpole and send it to her via owl, and told him she'd like to call him from the resort to wish him a Merry Christmas. He had agreed at once. The flurries of snow whirled and splattered against the icy cold red box, but Ron knew it would all stop mattering as soon as the bloody thing rang and he got to hear Hermione's voice. It didn't replace seeing her and holding her, but it was the best next thing.

The metallic ringing noise nearly made Ron jump out of his skin; once he recovered, he snatched the receiver and pressed it to his ear.

'HELLO?' he shouted, worried that perhaps someone else might have chosen to call at that exact moment.

'Ron,' Hermione said patiently, in what seemed like a normal, non-yelling voice, 'you don't need to shout for me to hear you.'

'Okay,' Ron said in a lower tone, although he still wondered if she _would_ hear him. 'Hermione. Hi.'

'Hi, Ron. Merry Christmas,' she said, and he could imagine her smiling as he slowly grinned himself. This was a brilliant idea.

'Merry Christmas. How's everything going?'

There was a pause on the other side.

'Well,' Hermione started hesitantly, 'it's been… we've spent every day on the trails and you know I'm not really good at skiing… but we went on a snowshoeing hike with a group, it was nice.'

'Sounds good,' Ron said, though he had no idea what "snowshoeing" was and didn't think Hermione was all that excited about it.

'How are things there?' she asked.

'Oh, you know, the usual. Everyone came over; Harry invited Andromeda and Teddy, too. Mum cooked a lot; that kept her busy enough but you could tell she was distracted. There were a lot of us to help, though, so nothing got burnt. Ginny overdid herself with the decorations as usual. Bill made Fleur laugh and stop complaining about Celestina Warbeck by pulling her up for a dance in the middle of the living room. You haven't seen her yet, she's really showing now. It was—it was hard, you know, we were all thinking about—Fred,' Ron said, trying not to choke down. 'But we've got each other, and isn't that sort of the point?'

'Oh Ron!' Hermione said with a sob. 'I should be there! I should be in your house, with your family, and Harry, and _you_! It feels like I'm pretending, like there wasn't a war and like I didn't spend last Christmas starving in a tent—what am I doing in _a ski resort in France_? I love my parents, but we just can't pretend like we can go back to do what we've always done as if our lives were the same.'

'Hey,' Ron said, holding the receiver with both hands as if hoping Hermione would feel him. 'Hermione, maybe you should try talking to your parents about that. For them there wasn't a war, everything probably seems very… fuzzy and far away. And they want to have some time alone with you, but it doesn't mean they're gonna hate you if you explain to them why you don't want to spend Christmas skiing anymore.'

Hermione sighed softly.

'You might be right. I just—we're going home on Sunday, but I don't think I can hold it for much longer. I really wish I was there.'

'I wish you were here, too,' Ron said, feeling his heart drop. 'Close your eyes and imagine I'm there. Look, someone even hung mistletoe in here, which means I should imaginarily kiss you.'

Hermione made a sound that could have been a laugh, a sob, or a bit of both.

'That did it?' he asked, hoping he had cheered her up. He was surprised when Hermione said, 'No.' Before either of them could say anything else, Ron heard Hermione's mum calling for her on her side.

'Mum—I'm talking to Ron,' Hermione said. It could be that he was imagining things, but he thought Hermione sounded odd.

'Say hello and Merry Christmas to him and his family from us,' he heard Mrs. Granger's voice distantly.

'Mum, I actually—I need to talk to you.'

'Anything wrong, Hermione?' Hermione's dad's voice was now added to the conversation. Ron wondered whether Hermione had forgotten he was still on the phone.

'No. Yes. I'm sorry,' Hermione seemed to have lowered the receiver, so that her voice too became far-off. 'I understand our family's never been big on Christmas and you use the holidays as a time for leisure and relax, and I understand that you want to spend time with me when I'm away for most of the year. I want to spend time with you, too, and I've tried… so hard. But I can't… I don't belong _here_ right now, I belong in England, with—with the rest of the people I love—I'm sorry—'

The rest of the conversation became muted. Ron pressed the receiver harder against his ear but he could only hear some static. Had she hung up on him? He knew it was rude to eavesdrop, but he needed to know. How would Hermione's parents react? What if he had given her terrible advice and her parents did end up hating her… and him?

'Hermione?' he asked, hesitant, but he now heard a steady sound he was rather sure meant she had hung up at last.

_Fuck_ , he thought. He was proud that Hermione had finally stopped tiptoeing around her parents and decided to talk to them, but he wished she hadn't chosen that moment. He would have liked to keep talking to her, because she was right: imagining they were together didn't do it. But at least he'd had her voice. Ironic, really, how this Christmas connected with the one a year ago…

Ron sighed, leaning sideways against the panelled glass of the box. He decided he would wait for a while, in case she decided to call again and give him an update. Why hadn't he asked for _her_ number?

Suddenly, the door opened behind him and he startled. There, wearing a large coat and snow boots over her pyjamas, her cheeks pink-tinged and her brown eyes large in a mix of fear and excitement, holding a bag and (oddly) a slipper, was Hermione.

Gaping, Ron managed to say, 'What?'

'Portkey,' Hermione said breathlessly, holding up her slipper.

'You—you made a _Portkey_? Hermione that's—isn't that incredibly complicated, and illegal, and—' Ron caught Hermione's expression going from slightly scared to vaguely amused. 'I love you.'

'I know,' she said, stepping closer, and then, 'Look, someone hung mistletoe in here. You should not-imaginarily kiss me.'

Laughing, Ron put both hands around her face, leaned in and kissed her, doing a rather poor job of it as they could barely help smiling. There would be time for proper kissing, though; explanations, exchanging presents and saying Merry Christmas again could hold on for a little longer. Right now, they held each other in the cramped old phone box, thinking that this time, it had been Ron's voice guiding _her_ back.


	12. Things you said that I wish you hadn't

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N:** _For shame, I updated this on Saturday over at FFN and forgot to do it here!_
> 
> I actually wanted to head somewhere else when I started this, then I realised it was turning kind of angsty and did not fit the mood of what I wanted; _then_ , I noticed I was coming dangerously close to repeating myself, and finally I let it stew for a couple of weeks until I pulled myself together and finished it. The next installment is a direct follow-up to this, and more light-hearted.
> 
> Thanks to everyone for the reviews! To the ones who ask for more or to "keep going": as I've mentioned, these are all already written and posted somewhere else; I just don't want to dump them all at once here. So no need to fret :)
> 
> If you read and like these, please leave a comment! Remember that fandom creators don't get any other form of payment, yet they give their time and skills for free for your entertainment.
> 
> **Rating:** T

Hermione made an exasperated noise and glared at Ron, who kept staring at her with a silly, knowing smirk from across the table.

'Will you please stop looking so smug and let me eat in peace?' she finally snapped.

'Sorry,' he said without much conviction. 'I was just remembering—'

'Yes, I know full well,' she said, her cheeks flaming. 'Honestly Ron…'

She glanced around the kitchen; Harry and Ginny weren't at Grimmauld Place yet, but she wouldn't have wanted Kreacher to overhear.

'I don't know why it's a thrill for you to get _me_ to break the rules.'

Ron chuckled.

'It's just that you're a law-abiding person, who'd never consider breaking the rules unless it's for some noble cause, right?'

Hermione grunted in assent.

'And I know I could never get you to break any rules unless you wanted to.' He smirked at her again. 'So it's quite flattering that you want to break some rules for me.'

Hermione rolled her eyes, though the colour now spreading down her neck and chest betrayed her.

'Don't let the power get to your head. It only happened because I hadn't seen you in days.'

'Mhm. C'mon, it's not like shagging in a broom closet is illegal or anything. I _know_ you'd never do anything outright illegal, even for me.'

'First of all, it's not illegal but it could've got us both sacked,' Hermione admonished. 'Second, I wouldn't say never, not if I thought it was really necessary.'

Ron pretended to be touched.

'I'm gonna hold you to that, but I don't know if you really have it in you,' he teased.

'What do you mean?' Hermione laughed. 'Like we haven't done our fair share of really illegal things in the past!'

'Yeah, but it was mostly to save our necks or something like that. You haven't done anything illegal _for me_.'

'That's what you think,' Hermione said, without thinking herself.

'That's what I know… I think?' Ron said, looking confused at her. 'Have you?'

'No,' Hermione said quickly. Ron peered into her face for a moment, and she felt herself blushing furiously again.

'You're a terrible liar,' he said slowly, 'but I don't… What…? Hermione, _have_ you ever done anything illegal for me?'

'I just told you no,' Hermione said in a clipped tone, pretending to be more annoyed than terrified at her slip. She got to her feet and piled up her and Ron's dishes, then took them to the sink and started washing them manually.

'You did, but I don't believe you,' Ron replied, following her and standing next to her. She ignored him. 'You look like you're hiding something from me.'

'Will you let it go, Ron? Why does it matter if I did or didn't do something?'

'Because of the honesty thing!'

'Yes, but this isn't anything… I don't want to talk about it!' she exploded, shutting off the tap and walking away from her unfinished washing up. Ron waved his wand carelessly and the dishes started washing themselves, soapy water sloshing to the floor.

'Well I do!' he insisted, striding after her until he could step right across her path and bring her to a halt. Startled, he saw that Hermione's eyes had welled up. 'What is it? Hermione, we've talked about Krum and Lavender, and about when I—when I left. I doubt there's anything worse than that.'

'But I know it'll upset you,' she said, looking at him as if hoping to convince him to let it go.

'I promise I won't be upset,' Ron said, although he was starting to doubt himself. 'Or I won't be… after a while. Whatever it is.'

When Hermione still looked doubtful, he prompted her.

'Hey, come on, you did something illegal for me? How can you expect me not to want to know?'

She sighed and finally retraced her steps back into the kitchen, where she sat down on her chair. Ron did the same.

'Quidditch trials in sixth year,' she said quietly, not looking at him. 'Remember… remember how McLaggen missed a goal horribly, and afterwards you joked that he looked like he'd been Confunded?'

Ron nodded, but his confused expression suddenly gave way to realisation. Hermione could almost see the pieces falling into place inside his head.

'He was,' she finished anyway.

'You did it? But… why?'

'Because he was saying horrible things about you, Ginny and Harry, and because I… I really wanted you to make it into the team,' Hermione said. Now it was Ron's turn to look away.

'And you didn't think I could've made it without help, did you?' he said, sounding slightly grumpy.

'No, it was nothing like that! This is why I didn't want to tell you!'

'Yeah, now I wish you hadn't,' Ron said, angling his body away from her.

'Please, Ron, you promised you wouldn't be upset,' Hermione reminded him. He gave her a noncommittal grunt; she supposed she'd earned that, but she wasn't going to be intimidated.

'I can't believe my two friends had to trick me so I wouldn't make a fool of myself,' he muttered before she could say anything.

Hermione felt a twinge of irritation. How could he still think like that? At the same time, however, she was aware that that was how it must look like for Ron. She probably would feel the same in his place.

'Ron,' she called softly. 'The only person who's ever doubted you is yourself. Harry and I both knew you could do it, but you get so nervous... When Harry pretended to give you the Felix Felicis, it was only so you could believe you could do it, and you did. When I Confunded McLaggen, it was only to give you a bit of advantage, but you still scored all those goals yourself. It was all you.'

Ron lifted his eyes grudgingly.

'Bit funny for you to have accused Harry of slipping me that potion, wasn't it?' he said, his voice still sounding bitter.

'He might have said something like that back then, too,' Hermione said, feeling as embarrassed as she had that day, especially when she considered that, had she not reacted that badly, a lot of things might have gone differently.

'Harry knew?' Ron asked, raising both eyebrows.

'Is _that_ important?' Hermione replied in exasperation. 'Yes, he did. He actually feared I'd tell you after we—well, we fell out. Of course, however angry I was at you, I wasn't planning on going so far.'

Ron's face softened at that, a guilty expression clouding his features. She sighed.

'I couldn't understand why you'd want to put yourself through all the stress of playing Quidditch again,' she said, nudging his leg with her toe so he would look at her. 'But since you wanted to do it, I decided to help you get it. I know it was wrong… and illegal… but…'

She looked expectantly at Ron, waiting for him to say something.

'It was you,' he said at last.

'Sorry?'

'You seemed to have a thing for Quidditch players,' Ron joked, shrugging one shoulder.

Hermione didn't smile.

'You did it because… Viktor…'

'No, not for that, I…' Ron ran a hand through his hair, accidentally leaving the bright strands on end. He would have never imagined that his teasing Hermione about shagging in a broom closet would lead to a conversation about how much of a prat he'd been back in Hogwarts. 'I wanted to play Quidditch for me… at first. But I'd also just realised that I _might_ like you, and that it _might_ be wrong because we were friends. And that you might never be with someone like me when you could get a Viktor Krum.'

He half smiled at her.

'I only wanted to prove I could be really good at something, and… if you happened to see it…'

Hermione chuckled.

'We were both so very stupid. But I suppose it was a little too much to deal with. I mean, what are you supposed to do when you realise you fancy one of your best friends, who also happens to be able to drive you nuts in a second?' she asked, pretending to be baffled.

'Right?' Ron agreed, hooking his foot around her ankle. 'Who were we going to ask for advice, our oblivious, specky other best friend?'

The initial hurt he'd felt at Hermione's confession had vanished. It was still hard for Ron to avoid transferring his self-doubts to what he imagined Harry and Hermione thought of him, but he was getting better. If someone had told him back in sixth year what Hermione had done for him, he wouldn't have wanted to listen to any explanations, and if he had, they would have felt like poor excuses made up to spare his feelings. Now, even if that had been his first reaction, he had listened and he understood. Hermione hadn't cared for Quidditch. She hadn't cared for being with someone who wouldn't embarrass her for his lack of skills or good marks. She had only cared for him to see himself as she saw him, something that she now did more openly—that they both did.

Hermione got up and sat down on Ron's lap. He put his arms around her and rubbed her back.

'You know you don't have to impress me, don't you? You never had to, really,' she said seriously.

'I know.' A grin crept slowly into Ron's face. 'But it's still fun to try, isn't it?'

Hermione's forehead furrowed in confusion for a moment, looking at him, until—

'Ron!' She slapped his arm as he laughed. 'That's not what I meant, and besides… I believe you were the one impressed when I agreed to it!'

'I was.'

'And I believe you know it'll never happen again.'

'I know,' Ron said, putting on a contrite face.

Hermione held his stare sternly, the faintest twitch pulling on the corner of her lips.

'I wouldn't object if you tried to impress me right now,' she said, maintaining an even tone but arching one eyebrow.

'What? Here?'

'Of course not _here_ —' Hermione begun, but it was too late for clauses.


	13. Things you said after it was over

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N:** This is the promised follow-up to the previous fic! It was inspired by an ask I got in my blog saying _"do you ever think about Hermione getting a shirt that says "Weasley is our King" on it as a joke and wearing it for Ron and him saying, "if I'm the king, you're definitely the queen" because I do and I cry sometimes"_. I chose to use this prompt-title to give the “over” a different meaning than intended. 
> 
> If you read and like these, please leave a comment! Remember that fandom creators don't get any other form of payment, yet they give their time and skills for free for your entertainment. Thanks to everyone for reviewing!
> 
> **Rating:** T for very light innuendo

He hadn’t been able to resist an invitation to play for the friendly inter-department Quidditch tournament. Harry and some of their Auror mates were playing; it was less demanding than playing at Hogwarts (less training, less matches, less formality), and quite frankly, Ron missed playing Quidditch, despite everything. There was still a cup to be won, however, which did add some pressure, but he hadn’t felt as sick before this first match as he’d always felt back in the day. At least Harry had ended up on his team.

With a last look to the stands, Ron kicked hard at the ground and soared into the air, catching up with Harry, who had been flying some laps around the pitch.

‘Why aren’t Hermione and Ginny here yet?’ Ron wondered aloud, trying not to show his disappointment at their absence. He wouldn’t have blamed Hermione for not coming: this tournament was merely a way some Ministry workers had come up with to do a bit of sports now and then, and to get to know people from other departments outside of work. But since she had said she wanted to come, he couldn’t help but hope she would.

‘Dunno mate, but don’t worry, they’ll be here!’ Harry said cheerfully.

And they were, right after the referee had blown the whistle and everyone had flown into position. Ron grinned and waved at Hermione, who waved back, his enthusiasm boosting. Was she wearing a Chudley Cannons T-shirt? He squinted, trying to make out the words on the front of her orange top, but he was too high up and the match was starting.

It was odd, though. She didn’t own any Chudley Cannons T-shirts herself—she had warned him about ever getting her one—and the only one of his she had was barely orange anymore. Besides, why would she be showing support to the _Cannons_ today?

There was no more time to ponder this question, though, as the other team’s Chaser was already speeding towards Ron’s goal posts.

A couple of hours and his team’s first victory later, Ron squeezed his way out of the celebrating group and saw Hermione running towards him from the stands. She threw her arms around him and he gave her a spin before setting her down.

‘You did great!’ she cried proudly.

‘Thanks! But... what are you wearing?’ Ron said, laughing. He finally had a clear view of her garish T-shirt. Over the orange background, the letters in sparkling silver read: “Weasley is our King”. It was as unexpected and shocking as it was brilliant.

She gave him a bright smile and waved a hand.

‘Oh, this? Only a limited edition to support my favourite Quidditch player. I was hoping to ask him whether he’d sign it later, perhaps over a Butterbeer?’ she said, batting her eyelashes. The only times she nailed being flirty was when she was joking, but that was fine with Ron. ‘I thought it’d be a good idea to show my support properly, since I don’t remember doing it very well at Hogwarts. It’s like a re-do.’

‘You’d think,’ Ron replied, still grinning at her. Even when she had been supportive at Hogwarts, he’d barely let himself believe her. Seeing Hermione in the stands had always filled him with a dizzying mix of resolve and uncertainty, feelings that had seemed to take turns in prevailing, and therefore influence his performance. Now, he no longer felt like he had something to prove. He’d never had anything to prove, not to her. Seeing Hermione there today had been all the support he’d needed; the T-shirt was only a bonus.

‘At least you didn’t start to sing,’ he commented.

‘There’re still some matches to come, though, aren’t there?’ Hermione asked innocently, as Ron made a show of groaning.

‘So about signing that,’ Ron said, taking Hermione’s hand and leading her out of the pitch, his broomstick hoisted over a shoulder. ‘I wouldn’t want to jab you with my quill, you know. It’d be best if we go somewhere private first… you take it off… I _could_ sign it…’

‘Cheesy,’ Hermione said, suppressing a smile. ‘But lead the way, King. I hope you haven’t got many other royal subjects waiting.’

Ron turned to look at her, brown eyes sparkling, uncontrolled hair framing her pink-cheeked face, soft lips giving in to mirth.

‘ _Other_ subjects? Hermione, if I’m a bloody King,’ he said, leaning in until the side of their noses touched, breaths mixing in the small space between them, ‘then you’re definitely the Queen.’


	14. Things you said when you were crying

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N:** At first I wasn't going to use this prompt, because you know, too similar to "things you said when I was crying", but then I got this idea and it seemed funny. This one features Harry! And alcohol! And double weddings! (or not…)
> 
> If you read and like these, please leave a comment! Remember that fandom creators don't get any other form of payment, yet they give their time and skills for free for your entertainment. Thanks to everyone for reviewing!
> 
> **Rating:** PG13

It was a given that, after having celebrated in private and spent many hours letting it sink in, planning and daydreaming about the future, Harry would be the one they'd tell first. He was more than a friend to both of them, and he had been there all the way, a—sometimes unwilling, sometimes unaware—witness of the development of their relationship. Plus, they were all living in the same house. By all accounts, he deserved to find out first.

Harry had been completely dumbfounded, then happy, then dumbfounded again, which he had covered up by insisting they opened a bottle of something to celebrate, and now the three of them were in stitches over the smallest things.

Harry suddenly appeared to sober up, straightening his askew glasses, and said, 'I don't suppose you're gonna get married right away, though, are you?'

Hermione looked over at Ron. He had his tipsy look of vague smile and slightly narrowed eyes on, which meant that he wasn't going to be much help, so she answered instead.

'No, we're not in a hurry. We want to wait until we're both more settled in our jobs, and we need to start saving and looking for a place to move in.'

'So, over a year?'

'Probably, yes. Why are you asking?'

'Afraid we won't send you an invite, mate?' Ron asked, drawling a little.

'Ha, no. I was just thinking,' Harry started, frowning as if deep in thought. 'You know, we haven't talked about it, and I don't plan on doing it soon, but… you know I'm gonna ask Ginny to marry me one day, too, right?'

'Like hell you will!' Ron said loudly, sitting up straight.

'Didn't you tell me a while ago that I better plan on making an honest woman of your sister some day, since I was…?' Harry trailed off, too embarrassed to finish the sentence, but Hermione was able to fill in the blank on her own.

'You did?' Hermione asked Ron.

'I was drunk.'

'You're not sober now.'

'Yeah. 'sides, you've got to pick one, mate, can't have it both ways,' Harry said.

'Don't get cocky, you specky git,' Ron grunted.

'Where were you going with all this, Harry?' Hermione interjected, trying to steer the conversation back to where it had started.

'Oh—yeah, right.' Harry leaned forwards to brace his weight on his hands, resting on his knees. 'Well, I just thought… if you two are gonna wait for like a year before getting married, maybe by that time I could propose to Ginny and we can plan a double wedding!'

Hermione stared at her best friend's grinning face, nonplussed. On some level, she understood where Harry was coming from. For most of his life, he'd been denied the smallest of pleasures and comforts—but also people he could share what little he had with. Where others would have grown up to be protective of what they had, Harry was selfless nearly in everything, much like Ron. Perhaps that was one of the main reasons the two boys had struck so quick a friendship on that first train ride to Hogwarts.

On a completely different level, though, the one that was rather unrestrained at the moment, she felt like laughing. And so she did.

'Hermione—are you… crying?' she vaguely heard Harry's concerned voice as she doubled over, shaking uncontrollably. She heard Ron's guffaws next to her and, through misty eyes, saw that he too was having a hard time keeping upright on his chair.

'Harry,' Hermione managed to gasp at last, tears of laughter now freely flowing down her cheeks. 'We love you—we really do, and there are no regrets whatsoever about everything we've shared together.'

She glanced at Ron, who was still fighting against a bad case of giggling, then turned back to Harry.

'But I think we'd like our _wedding_ to be about just the two of us,' she finished, trying to sound as gentle as she could. She was positive Harry's idea was mainly alcohol-fuelled and he'd appreciate Hermione having drawn the line in the morning.

Now, though, his face fell slightly in disappointment.

'Oh. Fair point.'

No longer laughing but grinning widely, Ron leaned in to wipe the tear tracks off Hermione's face and said, 'This is why I'm marrying you,' before kissing her. Harry let out a groan of disgust in the background.

'Yeah, no offense, mate,' Ron told him, moving the hand cupping Hermione's face to hold her hand, 'but we really wouldn't want to steal the spotlight at the wedding of The Boy Who Lived!'

After all, there was only so much you could share with even the best of friends… unless you were marrying one of them.


	15. Things you said when we were the happiest we ever were

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N:** Sorry for not having updated sooner, I have no excuses other than I forgot! So, after the post-proposal story, I bring you the wedding! This won Best Drabble at the 2015 Ron/Hermione Awards on Tumblr ^-^
> 
> If you read and like these, please leave a comment! Remember that fandom creators don't get any other form of payment, yet they give their time and skills for free for your entertainment. Thanks to everyone for reviewing!
> 
>  **Rating:** PG

The music started and they met halfway, in the middle of the dance floor, hands joining and bodies swaying close, to the applause of the family and friends surrounding them.

‘Hi again, wifey,’ Ron greeted her with a lopsided grin. ‘Fancy meeting you here.’

Hermione winced, the smile she could no longer contain betraying her efforts.

‘Don’t call me that, _husband_ , we might get an annulment yet.’

‘Nope, the little bloke said it, we’re bonded for life.’

‘Well, if there’s no helping it…’

They laughed, the music muffling their exchange from the others, and looked into each other’s eyes as they moved on the spot, Ron’s thumb rubbing the small of her back.

‘When d’you reckon they’re gonna stop staring at us and start dancing? It’s starting to make me feel uncomfortable,’ Ron said, looking out of the corner of his eye to the crowd.

‘Me too. I feel like I’m going to trip over my feet if they keep staring,’ Hermione confessed.

‘Me too!’ They laughed again, and Ron twirled her around to more applause. ‘This is why I wanted to elope.’

‘I know, I’d have wanted to do that, too—’

Ron’s eyebrows shot up.

‘You did? Then why didn’t we?’

‘Because, like I told you, even though it was our wedding we had to think of our family and friends, and eloping feels like we’re doing something illegal,’ Hermione reminded him. ‘So we compromised in small, simple wedding, for as few people as we could get away with, and that’s what we did. Besides, by not eloping we were able to ask for days off work and start our honeymoon right away.’

‘Right. Well, it’s not too bad, anyway, is it? After this, we can get something to eat while everyone tells us how great we are for each other, then we dance some more and get drunk—’

‘No getting drunk,’ Hermione told him, raising an eyebrow. ‘Unless you want to skip the wedding night…?’

‘No getting drunk. I’m glad you’re so sensible, love,’ Ron said, grinning at her.

‘And I’m glad you thought growing a beard for today would make people forget that we’re too young to get married,’ Hermione said, lifting her hand from his shoulder to his copper-haired jaw. ‘I feel older by association.’

Ron chuckled, and she knew she’d made a mistake.

‘Actually, as of last week you _are_ older than me, Mrs. Weasley-Granger, so if anything, I’m the one who’s supposed to make you feel young again.’

‘Watch it, darling. Older means more experienced, and I’ve still got some tricks up my sleeve.’

‘I bet you do,’ Ron said with a wink, which made her shake her head and burst into laughter again.

‘Don’t turn it into something dirty, Ron, I was talking about magic!’

‘Sure you were.’

The movement around them caught their eyes and they noticed with relief that people were finally joining them, now that the song for their first dance was coming to an end.

‘Are you glad we did this? Got married, I mean?’ Ron asked quietly, a small frown creasing his forehead. Hermione knew it wasn’t that he was worried, that he regretted it, but that part of him feared she would come to agree with everyone else and think they should have waited. They were young, it was true, but they had thought this through. They wanted to do it.

‘I’m not glad, Ron,’ she told him, putting her arms around his neck and looking determinedly at him. ‘I’m happy I married you.’

He gave her a bright smile, shoulders relaxing under her arms, and leaned down to kiss her.

‘Brilliant. I’m really happy I married you, too, Hermione.’

She laid her head against Ron’s chest, feeling his arms wrap more securely around her back. As the music continued to play, Hermione closed her eyes and thought of the little red-haired boy she had annoyed so much he’d called her a nightmare ten years ago.

She had no regrets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N 2:** I'm sorry but I have to say this ***CURSED CHILD SPOILER***
> 
> :::
> 
> I can't believe I wrote this months ago and it treats Ron more fairly than that stupid idea that he got drunk during his wedding and ??? doesn't remember it or something ??? what the unholy fUCK are you kidding me Joanne???  
> [ **Clarification:** I know that, apparently, the reason this came up was because Ron told Hermione he wanted them to renew their vows, which is very sweet, but to me it was still unnecessary. I'm sorry if I frightened you guys, I'm just very much against CC and I have no chill when it comes to Ron.]


	16. Things you said that I wasn’t meant to hear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N:** You guys should know there's a headcanon I love about Hermione not taking Ron's name and Ron being super cool with it...
> 
> If you read and like these, please leave a comment! Remember that fandom creators don't get any other form of payment, yet they give their time and skills for free for your entertainment. Thanks to everyone for reviewing!
> 
> **Rating:** M? for swearing

‘—and I’d rather not go to Diagon Alley, maybe some quiet Muggle restaurant? But I might be running a bit late, so please load the washing machine as soon as you get home, and _don’t forget_ to look under the bed for all your dirty socks!’

Ron made a face and said, ‘Of course, love.’

Hermione stood on her toes to kiss him primly on the cheek.

‘All set then, see you tonight!’

She took the packed lunch Ron had brought for her and, with one last look, she turned and bounced out of the Aurors’ Headquarters.

Ron smiled to himself, running a hand through his hair. They had been married for little over a month, but Hermione had already decided that Friday night would be date night. Their schedules were so full, they kept missing each other at lunch and dinner most days, getting home at different times and with barely any energy to do more than basic chores and cuddling. She refused to let routine wear them down, and Ron was happy to join her in the effort.

‘Hey there, Mr. Granger, when you’re done mopping the floors for your wife perhaps you could consider giving an actual hand with all the paperwork?’

Ron groaned inwardly at the voice. Most people disliked Mockridge; Ron was no exception. He was a loudmouthed tosser, and Hermione had furiously told Ron upon first meeting his fellow Auror that he was a “chauvinist pig”.

‘What did you call me?’ Ron asked wearily.

‘Mr. Granger? Well, I assumed since your wife didn’t want to take your name, perhaps you’d taken hers!’ Mockridge said with a sneer. ‘After all, it’s rather clear who wears the trousers in that marriage.’

Ron’s ears turned an angry shade of red, signalling danger. He and Hermione had known they were bound to expect something like this after the wedding, once the news broke. While Hermione was hardly going to correct or feel annoyed at anyone referring to her as ‘Mrs. Weasley’, she still signed her paperwork as ‘Granger’ and had made it clear she preferred to be addressed by her maiden name at work.

Ron, however, hadn’t been expecting such forwardness, except perhaps from Rita Skeeter. He turned round and looked coldly at the other Auror, who was leaning against his cubicle. It was lunch time, which meant most of the others had legged it. There were still a couple of people around who, like Ron, were too busy to afford eating outside his workstation, though. He spoke calmly but loud enough: he was only planning on saying it once.

‘If you want to call me Mr. Granger, that’s fine by me. I love my wife. That means I’m not ashamed of being associated to Hermione’s name, and neither is she to be associated to mine. So you better get fucking used to it. We’re both equals in our marriage, though that’s something I won’t expect you to get,’ Ron spat.

‘What are you exactly implying, Weasley?’ Mockridge said, standing up straight to be level with Ron. Far from feeling intimidated, Ron held his gaze.

‘I’m not implying anything,’ he said. ‘I’m saying very directly that I’m sorry for your wife and what she has to put up with.’

Mockridge snorted.

‘You can play at it all you want, but marriage isn’t a game and I can tell you how long yours’ gonna last with that mindset.’

‘Yeah well, I’m sorry, but Mr. Granger here is busy being too happy with his wife and doesn’t give a rat’s arse about your “marriage advice”,’ Ron stated, emphasizing the last two words.

The other man rolled his eyes, turned round and walked off to the furthest side of the office.

Ron smiled slightly at himself, realising how foolishly corny he must have sounded. He turned to get back inside his cubicle and nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw Hermione, still holding her lunch, on the hallway behind him.

She strode back into the room and towards him with fierce look on her face. Throwing her free arm around his neck, she pulled him down and kissed him on the mouth.

‘You heard?’ Ron asked, his previous “Auror-mode”, like Hermione called it, replaced by a boyish awkwardness as he rubbed his neck.

‘Yes.’ Hermione beamed, giggling at the look on his face. ‘I was coming back because I picked up your lunch instead of mine. That was very… gallant of you.’

‘ _Gallant?_ I almost punched him. Maybe I should have,’ Ron said, glancing over his shoulder.

‘No, you shouldn’t,’ Hermione said, turning his face firmly back to her.

‘Fine, but I didn’t sound gallant, I sounded like a tit.’

‘Like a,’ she lowered her voice to a whisper, making Ron laugh, ‘ _tit_ who loves me.’

‘And makes you swear.’

Hermione turned up her nose at Ron’s smirk.

‘That’s besides the point. The point is…’ She fiddled with the collar of his robes and smiled coyly at him. ‘What do you say if we do date night in reverse? We could just order take-away later…’

Ron looked confused for a moment, then his face lit up.

‘Oh! Yeah… yeah, I think Mr. Granger would like that.’

‘I think that’s really growing on you,’ Hermione commented while Ron reached inside his cubicle to swap their packed meals, realising as he did so that in all this time they could’ve had plenty of time to have lunch together. The prospect of their “reverse date night” made him not care that much.

‘Have I told you that I used to scribble “Mr. Ron Granger” on the margins of my notes?’

‘Yes, but you forgot I helped you with your homework for six years, you’d think I would have noticed with all the time I spent trying to decipher your writing.’

Ron grinned and leaned down to kiss her again, taking advantage of her momentary leniency to public displays of physical affection.

‘It was worth a shot.’


	17. Things you didn’t say at all

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N:** I remember when I got this prompt, I was stumped for a while because the only ideas I had were set in DH, and I've sort of... overdone that, if you can't tell. So I came up with this alternative, and I like how it turned out :D
> 
> If you read and like these, please leave a comment! Remember that fandom creators don't get any other form of payment, yet they give their time and skills for free for your entertainment. Thanks to everyone for reviewing!
> 
> **Rating:** M for adult situations

Hermione’s muscles seized up and her thighs clenched around Ron, her back arching under his hand, a squeaky sort of moan escaping from her lips. She felt Ron’s mouth twitch in a smile and the puff of air he let out through his nose against the crook of her neck before she let herself go.

Ron freed his hand from under her and pushed himself up enough to roll to one side. Her legs still wrapped around his waist, loosely this time, she rolled over with him. Ron opened his eyes to look at lazily her, and she was able now to see the smile he hadn’t yet wiped off his face.

‘Mouse,’ he said in a raspy whisper. ‘Told you.’

She tutted, sliding her legs down his body to tangle them with his own.

‘Shut up. Do you want me to tell you want _you_ sound like?’

‘Probably nothing as lovely as you,’ he said, closing his eyes again and clasping his hands behind her back.

‘Don’t give me that rubbish,’ Hermione told him, though she smiled. She didn’t close her eyes yet. Instead, she took advantage of Ron’s unawareness to examine the face she knew so well. She started by observing the way the light from the lamp they hadn’t bothered turning off reflected on his hair, making it glint in different shades of gold and red. It was messy and it stuck up at the top of his head, making it look even more like a portable fire. She moved her eyes down his relaxed forehead to his eyebrows, defined and the same colour of his hair, whereas his eyelashes were practically transparent. She travelled down his long nose and reached out a finger to trace the curve of his pinkish lips. Ron let out another close-mouthed chuckle at the touch but didn’t open his eyes. Her hand rotated and she brushed the back of her fingers along his slightly stubbly jaw line, watching the freckles blending in with the short coarse hairs. At what exact point had her best friend grown into such a gorgeous man?

She leaned in until her parted lips were a breath away from his mouth, relishing in the closeness, and at last pressed a kiss against Ron’s bottom lip, moving away when he made to kiss her back and smirking at his disappointed pout. His eyelids fluttered open and he gave her a sleepy, lopsided smile. It was as perfect a moment as any. Hermione took a deep breath.

‘Do you think we’re ready to be parents?’ she asked quietly.

‘Dunno. Are you ever?’

‘Well... I should think at some point you must be,’ Hermione said, gauging his reaction. Ron sighed.

‘We’ve been back and forth with this for years,’ he said. ‘You’re ready but I’m not, then _I’m_ ready but you’re not. Then we try and nothing happens, so we backtrack on the idea. Maybe we should stop thinking about it for a while, might be it just isn’t the right time.’ He draped an arm over his eyes, shielding them from the light. ‘Harry will knock my sister up soon enough, we can play with their babies, no strings attached.’

‘But Ron, what if I was p—pregnant this time?’ she said, trying to control the shaking in her voice. ‘Because I think I am.’

Ron’s arm slid down his face to fall into his chest, and he looked at her with a blank expression.

‘I mean—well, I haven’t had a blood test done or anything, but I bought a few Muggle tests and have been doing them every couple of days to make sure, they all come out positive,’ Hermione said fast. ‘I’m quite sure I’m pregnant. I’ve got an appointment at St Mungo’s next week, anyway, but I wanted to tell you first.’

Ron simply continued to stare at her, the only change in his face being a soft crease between his eyebrows. Not the reaction Hermione had hoped for or even expected from him. It made her uneasy, so she ploughed on.

‘I wanted to do something special to tell you, actually, but every idea I had seemed so cheesy.’ She laughed. ‘And I’d planned on telling you tonight after dinner, but then I thought perhaps you’d not want to have sex if you knew, in case you’d hurt the baby or something—which is not true, by the way,’ she hurried to add, ‘but for some reason men think it is. Do you mind? That I’m telling you like this, I mean?’

Ron still didn’t utter a word. She thought she could slap him.

‘I might be less than a month along. From that time during the holidays... you remember? It might be nothing. I mean, it might be something else that makes the tests come out positive. Still, I didn’t ovulate this time around, so I stopped taking contraception, it seemed pointless.’

Nothing. From all the times where Ron hadn’t said anything, this one was actually making her feel nauseated, although perhaps with reason.

‘I know we said we might not be ready enough and that we had time and that it might not be the right time,’ Hermione insisted, feeling a little desperate. ‘But I think I am ready. And you could be too. Don’t you think? Please say something, Ron, or I swear—’

Ron burst into laughter and once again rolled over, trapping her under him, although this time careful not to squash her middle. He dipped down his head and kissed her, tender but urgently, as if to make up for keeping her waiting for an answer.

‘You idiot,’ she said breathlessly, breaking apart and looking into his sparkly blue eyes. ‘I thought you were in shock, I thought you didn’t want it!’

He grinned sheepishly at her.

‘I was in shock, yeah, but it was a happy shock. I’m happy.’

‘Well, try and be more expressive about it next time, will you?’

He raised his eyebrows.

‘There’s going to be a next time, then, huh?’

‘I don’t know, but perhaps we should focus on baby number one right now and its poor mother,’ Hermione said, laughing.

‘Baby number one...’ Ron shook his head, astounded. He looked at her and kissed her briefly again. ‘I’m sorry I’m such a clueless idiot. Of course I’m ready. We’re ready. I’ll go to that appointment with you and... and if it’s not... then we’ll keep on trying, all right?’

Hermione nodded, her eyes filling up with tears. She hadn’t let herself get too excited or emotional about it until her appointment, but now that she’d told him, it seemed more real and she didn’t want to hold back anymore.

‘We’re going to have a baby!’ she whispered, as Ron lied back next to her and she nestled up to him.

‘Yeah,’ Ron said, touching her stomach. ‘And we’re going to have a whole lot of books about babies as well, aren’t we?’

‘Actually, I was hoping you’d want to come with me to Flourish and Blotts on Monday, just to have a look around—’

‘Which means we should bring some money with us for all the books you’ll be “just looking at”,’ Ron told her wisely, but before she could pretend that she seriously didn’t intend to buy any books so soon, he said, ‘You know, I might even read some of those.’

Hermione felt overwhelmed with love and the fact that he never ceased to amaze her.

‘You know, I think this deserves a little private celebration.’ She licked her lips and looked suggestively at him. ‘And I could really do with a bath. I hope you’ll remember what I said minutes ago about babies not feeling everything that goes up there, do you?’

From the look on Ron’s face, the feeling was mutual.


	18. Things you said at 1 am

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N:** I chose to make this one a long, angsty parental mess, because... fun! No, but seriously, ships that have small crisis related to their kids and support each other are my weakness.
> 
> If you read and like these, please leave a comment! Remember that fandom creators don't get any other form of payment, yet they give their time and skills for free for your entertainment. Hope you enjoy this one, and thanks for reviewing!
> 
> **Rating:** PG13 for language

The furthest side of the mattress sank and Ron woke up, alert. If someone had told him that one day the tiniest of sounds and movements around him would be able to interrupt his sleep, he would have laughed his arse off. Parenthood, however, showed him that it was not only possible but very much a fact.

He rolled over and squinted in the semi darkness, making out Hermione sitting on the bed with her back turned to him, a series of shuffling noises revealing she was putting on her slippers.

‘Rose woke up?’ he mumbled, yawning.

Hermione looked over her shoulder and he could see her smiling at him, illuminated dimly by the moonlight coming from the window.

‘No, I just wanted to check on her,’ she whispered. ‘Go back to sleep.’

She made to get up, but Ron caught hold of her wrist before she could move further.

‘You too. You need to get as much rest as you can, remember what the book says?’ Ron asked, thinking the mention of book knowledge would persuade her if he couldn’t. ‘When the baby sleeps, you sleep. She’ll need nursing soon and you’ll have to get up again.’

‘I know, Ron,’ she said, sounding slightly exasperated. ‘I just need to see she’s got enough blankets.’

Ron's brow furrowed. He checked the clock on Hermione’s night table: 1 AM.

He’d tried to reassure himself that this whole “being parents” thing wasn’t taking its toll on them yet, but perhaps he was wrong on that, too.

‘Of course she’s got enough blankets, love; we put her to bed ourselves,’ he said patiently. ‘And it’s not a really cold night... or at all.’

‘I _know_ that as well, Ron, thank you. I only need to make sure. I’ll be back in a minute.’

But Ron didn’t let go of her wrist, looking amused.

‘Seriously, have you seen what time it is? And I thought you were the sane one here! Not letting you go until to settle back down.’

Hermione wrenched her arm free and glared at him, wiping Ron’s smile off his face.

‘Don’t be an arse, Ron!’ she hissed angrily. ‘I want to check on my daughter, is that so wrong? Do you want me to fail at this?’

‘Fail?’ he asked, puzzled. ‘Fail at what, exactly?’

‘This! Motherhood!’

‘Hermione, it’s not an exam—’

‘Will you please stop stating the obvious, Ron, I know it’s not an exam!’ Hermione snapped. ‘It’s a baby we’re supposed to take care of; we _can_ fail at it!’

‘Yes, love, but we’re talking about blankets,’ he said, trying to restore some sense to the discussion. ‘It’s July; how many blankets do you think she can possibly need?’

‘That’s the thing! I don’t know, so I need to _make sure_ —’ Hermione’s voice broke slightly and Ron pulled himself up on the bed, looking concerned at her. She cleared her throat. ‘There’s got to be some—some spell to know when the baby’s feeling cold or too hot. I can’t believe I haven’t thought of looking for one; I don’t remember seeing any like it in my books—’

Ron scooted up closer to her and put a hand on her shoulder.

‘Is anything wrong?’

‘Of course not! Why, do _you_ think there’s anything wrong?’ she asked in a shrill, accusatory whisper.

‘I’m starting to think there is,’ Ron said carefully, knowing this would probably earn him some backlash from his still hormonal wife. Instead, Hermione’s body shook as she let out a sob, promptly covering her mouth with a hand so as not to wake Rose, sleeping on her cot next to the bed.

He closed the space between them, making her bounce on the bed as he did so, and wrapped his arms tightly around her. Hermione didn’t take her hands away from her mouth, but she pressed her face against Ron’s chest as she sobbed quietly. Ron hugged her, waiting for her to let it all out. Her crying subsided to hiccupy gasps, until at last she raised her head and looked up at Ron.

‘I just don’t want to be a bad mother,’ she whispered, and Ron’s heart broke by how genuinely small and vulnerable she sounded. Despite her oversensitivity, which made her tear up at the best of times, Hermione was the most resilient person he knew, and seeing her like this always made Ron feel helpless.

‘Then there’s nothing to worry about,’ he said, rubbing her back. ‘You’re an _amazing_ mum.’

‘Not everyone thinks so.’ Hermione’s lip wobbled. ‘Your mum, for instance. And Rita Skeeter.’

Ron frowned at the unlikeliness of those two names connected by “and”, especially because of something negative about Hermione. That had only happened once, many years ago.

‘Did my mum say you’re a bad mother?’ he asked her with utmost incredulity.

‘She didn’t have to say it; I know she believes that,’ Hermione said bitterly.

Ron put a finger under her chin and nudged it gently up.

‘How?’

‘Yesteday—remember when you left Rose at The Burrow for about an hour after your shift because you had to help George sort some stuff out in the Hogsmeade shop? When I went to get her, the wind had picked up and Rose had thrown up all over her socks, and your mother said she hadn’t been able to find any extra socks or warmer clothes inside the diaper bag you left. She told me that I really should always double check everything with babies and be prepared for any eventualities, and that she was _so terribly sorry_ that the only things she’d had to change Rose were the spare clothes Ginny, who obviously has such a strong mother instinct, had left for Albus, and how would I like to leave her some spares as well for when I forget to pack extra clothes? She went on and on about the bloody socks until I left!’ Hermione finished, furiously wiping fresh tears from her cheeks.

‘But love, that doesn’t mean anything,’ Ron said reasonably. ‘You know how my mother is. She was a nightmare with all of you lot. Remember poor Fleur? And Ginny… “mother instinct” my arse; mum was such a pain in the arse with the first baby that by the second Ginny had already learnt enough not to set her off. Raising seven kids gave her plenty of knowledge on babies, I won’t deny that, but still…’

‘But—’

‘As for Rita and her horrible article…’ Ron interrupted her, referring to the dreadful things Skeeter had wrote as soon as Hermione’s pregnancy became public knowledge. ‘I didn’t think it’d affected you. But Hermione, she doesn’t know shite about you. Whoever thinks that doesn’t know shite about you.’

‘But—but everyone thinks I care more about my career than about having a family, a—and that I’ll end up choosing it over you and Rose. Everyone thinks I’m going to fail at being a mother!’ she wailed quietly.

‘I don’t!’ Ron said fiercely. ‘It used to freak me out to think _I_ could be a lousy dad, but you… Hermione, I wouldn’t have wanted us to have kids if you weren’t up for it, if you didn’t think you could do it. Who cares about what the rest of the world thinks? None of them know you like I do. And I know you can do it because you’re doing a great job so far. You’ve been a mother from the moment you found out you were pregnant.’

Hermione sniffed, playing with the buttons on Ron’s night shirt.

‘You really think so?’

‘I’m just stating the obvious,’ Ron said with a smirk.

‘Ron, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to bite your head off like that!’ she breathed out, her eyes filling with tears again.’

‘Of course not, don’t worry about it,’ he reassured her, bringing her hands up and kissing them. ‘And by the way, I _know_ my mother thinks you’re a brilliant mum.’

‘How?’ she asked, echoing his earlier question.

‘She told me. Before Rose was born, she told me she knew you had a great mother instinct. She said Ginny’s was acquired, but yours… you’re a natural.’

Hermione smiled weakly and he dried up her tears with the back of his hand.

‘You’d think that’d make me remember to pack extra socks, though,’ she insisted, making Ron sigh. What he’d think was that after so many years, she should be able to see how amazing she really was, but no matter how many times he told her, Hermione still didn’t seem to fully believe him. To her credit, she claimed the exact same thing about him.

‘What did you say to me when we moved in together?’ he asked, trying a different tactic.

Hermione frowned.

‘What has this got to do with anything?’

‘Humour me. I know you’ll remember, you always remember everything.’

‘I said… that being a housewife wasn’t my priority, so for this to work we’d have to each do our part because it was only fair.’

‘Exactly. This is no different. I’m her father, right?’

‘I think that’s clear,’ she said with a small chuckle, and thinking about their daughter’s coppery hair and voracious appetite, Ron couldn’t help but agree.

‘I was the one who grabbed her bag and took her off with me; I was the one supposed to pack extra clothes for her. It’s only fair.’

She nodded and let out a long, shaky breath.

‘You’re a great dad, too,’ she said, looking earnestly at him. ‘And a great husband… a great everything to me, really.’

Hermione closed her eyes and rested her head against Ron’s shoulder.

‘Sorry I woke you up.’

‘Mhm, anytime,’ Ron said as he stroke her hair, feeling all warm inside.

They stayed like that for a while and Ron thought Hermione might have drifted off to sleep, when a little noise came out of the cot and, a second later, Rose’s crying rent the air.

Hermione groaned but smiled drowsily up at him.

‘Sorry, love, that one will always fall into your lot,’ he told her, fluffing up her pillows while Hermione got off the bed and bent over Rose’s cot. ‘Want me to get you anything?’

‘Some water would be nice, thank you,’ Hermione said, turning back towards the bed with a squirming, wailing Rose on her arms.

Ron stood up and kissed her on the lips before bending to nuzzle his little girl, whose crying relented slightly as she turned her head to her mother’s still covered breast.

‘See? We make a great team, you and I.’

‘Ah,’ Hermione said, grinning at him, ‘but that’s the one thing I’ve never doubted.’


	19. Things you said too quietly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N:** This one was written earlier this year for Ron's birthday! Cute domestic fluff for your cute domestic fluff needs with a bit of grown-up fun (or attempt at).
> 
> If you read and like these, please leave a comment! Remember that fandom creators don't get any other form of payment, yet they give their time and skills for free for your entertainment. Thanks to everyone for the support!
> 
> **Rating:** M to be safe

He woke up to the feather-light sensation of something on the underside of his jaw, a feeling that became more substantial as he slipped into full consciousness. The steady pattern of Hermione's lips pressing on his skin along with the little noises she made almost lulled him back to a content sleep, but Ron made himself open his eyes and turned his head to look at his wife.

'Happy birthday,' she said with a bright smile, raising her head when she saw him awake.

'Hey,' Ron said, smiling back lazily. 'Thanks. What're you doing?'

'Starting your celebrations,' Hermione replied, propping herself up on one arm before rolling on top of him. 'We've got a busy day, and I know we're having a proper party tomorrow at The Burrow, but your birthday is today, so I figured we could sneak in a few moments to celebrate, just us.'

'And the kids,' Ron reminded her, feeling nonetheless happy knowing how much thought she seemed to have put into it.

'Yes, but not right now,' she said, running her hands over his chest as she leaned in and kissed him, her hair falling like a curtain around his face. He slid his hands around her back and she broke the kiss, gathering her hair to a side and twisting it in an effort to keep it out of the way. 'In case you haven't noticed, we've got plenty of time till we have to get up and I intend to use it well.'

'You were never one to let time go to waste,' he told her, sliding his hands under the top of her pyjama while she bent down again. She kissed him deep and slowly, and Ron thought he'd be happy to stretch this part for as long as possible. They hadn't had much time for intimacy lately, which meant that snogging was usually cut off. Hermione seemed to have been thinking the same thing. When they parted for air, she moved to kiss his throat again, reaching down to pull his T-shirt up.

A sudden cry from the room across the hallway made them freeze. Hermione groaned and pressed her forehead on Ron's shoulder.

'We hadn't even started!' she lamented. 'And I was counting on having the time to bring you up breakfast before they woke up!'

She raised her head and looked at Ron.

'Am I a terrible mother for wanting some time away from my children?'

'Yes,' Ron said with a straight face. 'The worst.'

He laughed when Hermione slapped him on the shoulder.

'Keep that up and I'll make sure you're not getting any presents this year,' she advised, scrambling out of bed and heading to fetch a still crying Hugo.

Needless to say, breakfast didn't happen in bed. The noise her brother was making woke Rose up, and she was grumpy but unwilling to go back to sleep for another half an hour. Ron took it upon himself to cheer her up by drawing a face with honey over her porridge while Hermione tried to calm their teething baby.

'Sorry,' she mouthed to him over the top of Hugo's head, bouncing slightly up and down.

Ron shrugged and smiled at her.

'Guess whose birthday it is, Rosie?' he asked, watching as his little girl's face lit up and laughing guiltily as he realised she'd probably associated "birthday" to _her_ birthday and would start demanding a candle to blow out.

* * *

Later that day, Ron was just about to leave Verity in charge of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes while he grabbed Rose and went pick up something for lunch, when Hermione stepped inside the shop. She looked slightly distressed and out of breath, holding Hugo on one arm and a large bag dangling from the other, but she smiled at him as she made her way to Ron.

'What are you doing here, love?' he chided her gently, relieving her from her bag as Rose ran to hug her mother's legs.

'Came to have lunch with you,' she said, running a hand through Rose's red curls.

Ever since Rose had been born, they had decided to take her to work with them in turns, rather than leaving her with either of her grandparents. Now with Hugo, and Rose being barely two, their schedule had changed to which kid each took with them every day. Hugo was in a very fussy stage, which proved to be a challenge, and Hermione had nonetheless driven from the Ministry to spend her lunch break with him…

'You're amazing,' he told her, giving her a kiss on the cheek, 'but you didn't have to.'

'I know, but I wanted to,' Hermione said, following him to a private room on the back.

Ron opened the bag, had a look into it before pulling out the package of fragrant food he could guess it contained… and laughed.

'Did I mention you're amazing?' he asked, grinning, as he pulled out a clear box, a single cupcake with orange frosting and a candle on top inside of it.

'Cake!' Rose cried, jumping into a chair for a better look.

'You can ask Daddy to share it with you after we eat lunch, Rosie,' Hermione told her.

Unfortunately, Hugo had other plans. By the time Ron had finished unwrapping the second package with their food, the baby had grown more upset and Hermione's concerned scowl was back.

'I think he's got a fever—I'll have to take him to the doctor to make sure it's only the teething,' Hermione informed Ron, kissing Hugo's forehead. She gave him a disappointed look. 'I'm sorry, Ron—'

'Don't,' Ron said, standing up as she did so. 'It's not your fault, is it? But don't you want me to take him?'

'Oh no, I've got time, it's okay,' she assured him, grabbing her handbag. 'I'll pick you two up later, all right? Bye-bye Rosie, be good to Daddy!'

'Don't forget to have something to eat!' Ron called after her as she left.

'Can we blow out the candle now, Daddy?' Rose's chirping voice asked.

He was more worried about his baby having a fever—even when it probably wasn't anything serious—and his wife possibly forgetting to have lunch than about his birthday, but he knew Hermione would be bummed at the end of the day by the fact that nothing had gone according to her plans.

In the end, Rose was the one who blew out the candle and ate the whole cupcake, too.

* * *

They were able to have a nice dinner together at home that evening and Ron finally got around to opening all the presents his family had sent.

'I'm glad you liked the jacket,' Hermione said in his ear while Rose was distracted playing with Hugo, 'but I hope you haven't forgotten about what we started this morning?'

'Definitely not,' Ron told her, jumping up to get the kids ready for bed.

As it turned out, neither was quite willing to go. It was only then that Ron realised how much of a mistake it had been to let Rose take a nap half an hour before coming home.

They all ended up settling on his and Hermione's bed: Rose to watch one of her movies, Hugo for breast-feeding. They didn't fall asleep for another hour, at which point Ron felt his eyelids growing heavy as well.

'Hey,' Hermione whispered over the heads of the children still in their arms. 'Sorry your birthday didn't go as planned. I really wanted to make up for last year's… my pregnancy hormones didn't treat you very nicely then, did they?'

'Who said my birthday didn't go as planned?' Ron asked, smiling at her. 'Well, maybe not according to _your_ plans, anyway…'

Hermione snorted softly but smiled, too, lifting a hand and brushing the back of her fingers against Ron's jaw.

'Happy birthday, Ron,' Hermione said very quietly.

'What?' Ron whispered, cupping a hand over his ear. Hermione rolled her eyes.

'Happy—'

'Yes,' he interrupted, closing the space between them and kissing her. He was.


	20. Things you said when you thought I was asleep

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N:** Remember when we were so excited about the little insights into our favourite magical heroes' lives nowadays that we got back in 2014 for the Quidditch World Cup? Remember how it was so good we thought we wanted more canon content? I do, and I regret my greediness now in light of Cursed Child, but what can I say... I think the QWC articles will be the last thing I take and treasure as canon in the HP fandom. Anyway, I wrote this story last year and it's set during the 2014 QWC that took place in my own country (yay). I wrote three stories for that event: one is **Debugging** , the second one is this, and the third is the next installment of this series.
> 
> If you read and like these, please leave a comment! Remember that fandom creators don't get any other form of payment, yet they give their time and skills for free for your entertainment. Enjoy!
> 
> **Rating:** G

‘Mum, can I ask you something?’ Rose asked, finally dropping the book she had been pretending to read as she struggled with something in her mind. Hermione had noticed this, but she’d merely kept to her own reading, giving Rose time to organize whatever was bothering her before saying it out loud.

‘Of course, love,’ she said in a low voice, trying not to wake up Hugo and Ron, the first asleep on his bunk, the latter on her daughter’s other side. This was their second night camping in the Patagonian desert, miles away from home, a mini holiday they had taken with most of their extended Weasley family to catch the last two matches of the Quidditch World Cup. It had been a feat to whisk every child off to their own tent for the night, but they had been firm on it. After many a complaint, mainly repeated from his older cousins, Hugo had finally fallen asleep, knackered as Hermione knew he was. Rose, however, had asked permission to stay up reading while Hermione tried to get some work done, slipping between her and Ron to benefit from the lamp light.

The girl looked over her shoulder, towards her father’s sleeping form, and took a deep breath before speaking.

‘I read that article on the Daily Prophet from yesterday.’

Hermione’s eyebrows rose.

‘The article I specifically told you _not_ to read because it was grown-up stuff?’ Hermione asked sternly.

Rose cowered a little, but she looked back at her mother without blinking.

‘Yes, but—don’t be angry. I only wanted to find out why Daddy was upset.’

Hermione’s reprimand was replaced by the surprise she felt at her daughter’s perceptiveness. While Ron had been mildly upset, he had only let it show to her, privately, hours after they had laid eyes on Rita’s load of awful codswallop, and she didn’t think he’d been affected again by it after their talk.

‘Who said Daddy was upset?’

‘I noticed his jokes were a little off,’ Rose said, shrugging.

‘And do you think you found out?’

‘I don’t know,’ Rose said uncertainly. ‘I didn’t understand most of it, she writes funny.’

Hermione wrinkled her nose. She had other adjectives for Rita’s writing, but none of them were appropriate for a nine-year-old.

‘Well, he was only a bit upset because that… _article_ was full of lies about us. I don’t think I’ve got to tell you this, but since you read it, I hope you know those _are_ all lies, and you shouldn’t believe any of it.’

Rose nodded.

‘I still didn’t get why any of what it says about Daddy would upset him—except for the bit about his hair,’ Rose giggled, covering her mouth.

Hermione smiled, but she put on a serious expression again.

‘Rosie, I’m sorry, I know you want to understand, but this really is grown-up stuff—’

‘But Mu-um,’ Rose interrupted, and Hermione could perfectly picture Ron at her age. ‘Can I just ask you some questions?’

‘Depends on the questions.’

‘What are those Horcruxes it says Daddy destroyed?’

‘Not a good start.’

Rose gave her a testing look, measuring Hermione’s seriousness.

‘One day you might learn all about it, but believe me, you don’t want to get there too soon,’ Hermione said firmly.

‘That’s not the bit that upset Dad, then?’

‘Not exactly.’

Rose chewed on her lip as she thought.

‘Is it because it talks about when he was an Auror? Dad never wants to talk about the time he and Uncle Harry worked together.’

Hermione sighed. Sometimes she felt a great wave of sympathy for the adults who’d had to deal with Ron, Harry and her nosiness back in the day.

‘Yes, that was the bit that upset Dad. Anymore questions?’ Hermione asked in a tone that suggested no more questions would be taken, which Rose ignored.

‘I still don’t get it. It didn’t say anything really bad about that, did it?’

‘Nothing that you would be able to grasp yet,’ Hermione said with another sigh, thankful that, despite her daughter’s precociousness, she was still innocent enough to miss Rita’s malicious intent. She knew Rose wouldn’t give it up anytime soon, though, and she’d rather it was her who received these questions instead of Ron. ‘It only upset Dad a little to be reminded on the press of the bad stuff we went through during the war, and because the article took your dad’s reasons to leave the Aurors as if it made him weak. Cowardly.’

Rose frowned, considering this information.

‘Why would Dad be a coward if he just changed one job for another job?’

‘Because compared to the shop, being an Auror is a really important and dangerous job, sweetheart, and in the eyes of most people, more worthy than working in a joke shop, even though that isn’t true. Besides that, there were things about being an Auror that reminded your father daily of everything we saw and lost.’ Hermione reached out a hand to push a curl behind Rose’s ear. ‘Now, Dad was a great Auror. But these things were hurting him, and he finally decided that he didn’t want that anymore. A lot of people saw that as weakness … and that’s why this article bringing it back upset him.’

Hermione looked past Rose, at Ron's relaxed face.

‘I hope you’ll never need to remember this, and you may be too young to fully understand it, but Rosie, I want you to know that having problems other people can’t see doesn’t make you weak. And above all, I want you to know that your dad is one of the bravest people I’ve ever met.’

Rose nodded solemnly, and then she grinned.

‘I know he is. He kills spiders for me even when he hates them. He can be a bit silly sometimes, but he’s the best dad.’

Hermione looked at Ron again fondly and almost jumped when she saw her husband wink at her behind Rose’s back.

‘He is.’

‘Thanks for answering my questions, Mummy,’ Rose told her, throwing her arms around Hermione’s neck for a quick hug. ‘I’ll go to bed now, I’m so tired!’

‘Good-night, sweetheart.’

Hermione waited until Rose climbed into the top bunk to turn off the light. She settled down on the bed looking at Ron in silence until their daughter’s shuffling about stopped and they knew she was asleep.

‘You heard?’ she asked in a whisper.

‘Most of it, yeah,’ Ron whispered back. He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her closer. ‘Thank you.’

‘For what?’ Hermione said, tilting up her chin on the pillow to look at him.

‘Being you.’

Hermione chuckled, flattening her hands against his chest.

‘That’s not much.’

‘It’s more than enough for me,’ Ron said softly before kissing her. They had been married for over ten years, but Hermione still felt as if he’d just told her he loved her for the first time.

‘We’ve got a very sharp daughter,’ Ron commented, sniggering. ‘Not that I’m surprised, since you’re her mother, but we need to be careful.’

‘I know. I’m glad at least she didn’t seem to pick up the bit about Harry, Viktor and I.’

‘Oh yeah,’ Ron said, shaking slightly with suppressed laughter. ‘I hope I’m pretending to be asleep for that one, too!’


	21. Things you said at the kitchen table

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N:** This is the third fic set during the 2014 Quidditch World Cup! I wrote this one last year, too, and it takes place after **Debugging** and **Things you said when you thought I was asleep**. Unlike the other two, there's no angst or drama here, just pure family fluff on holidays. Will anyone take me to see the whales in the south??
> 
> If you read and like these, please leave a comment! Remember that fandom creators don't get any other form of payment, yet they give their time and skills for free for your entertainment. I hope you guys like this one!
> 
> **Rating:** G

Ron ducked his head under the tent’s flap and peered outside. The day was chilly; the camp’s grounds crisp with frost, but the pale dawn sky was barely interrupted by some fragile wisps of clouds. He hated getting up so early on his days off, but today it was going to be worth it. He took a deep breath of the clean, cool air and went back inside, almost bouncing towards the bed where Hermione was burrowed in.

‘Wake up, love,’ he whispered, sitting on the edge of the bed and giving her shoulder a little shake.

‘Why?’ she whined, wrapping herself more tightly in bedclothes. ‘I thought there weren’t any matches today.’

‘There aren’t.’

‘Then come back to bed, we’re on a holiday,’ she said, reaching an arm out and tugging him feebly towards her.

Ron chuckled.

‘I can’t believe _you_ are persuading _me_ to sleep in.’ Hermione clicked her tongue and hugged his arm to her chest, determined to go back to sleep. ‘Come on, haven’t you always said there’s no point in going on a holiday to stay all day in a room—or tent, in this case?’

‘Ron,’ Hermione said, still groggy but making an effort to sound rational, ‘we’re in the middle of a desert; there’s nothing to see inside this camp. Since our holidays consisted of coming to a Quidditch World Cup, at least I should be able to get up late, shouldn’t I?’

‘We’re not staying inside the camp; I’ve got something planned,’ Ron told her.

That piqued Hermione’s interest immediately. She pushed herself up and sat on the bed, looking at Ron with surprise.

‘You do?’

Ron kissed her nose and got to his feet, heading to the kitchen area.

‘Yep. Get the kids ready, I’ll start breakfast.’

‘Wait!’ Hermione said in a loud whisper, scrambling out of the bed and following Ron. He was already putting a kettle on the stove and getting out a pan. ‘Where are we going?’

Ron turned and looked at her hugging herself, having forgotten to fetch a dressing gown to face the world outside the blankets. He put the pan down and wrapped his arms around her for warmth—Hermione only now noticed he was already dressed. She stumbled back a little and her bum hit the small table behind, so she sat on it as primly as she could.

‘You don’t trust me?’ he asked, smiling.

‘I do, even though the last time you said that our car ended up in a ditch,’ Hermione reminded him before Ron kissed her, his chest rumbling in laughter against hers.

‘Well, I won’t be trying to drive this time, if that’s any comfort to you.’ He slid his arms down her body and patted her thighs, an excited grin lighting up his face. ‘We’re going whale watching!’

Hermione gaped at him.

‘Really? But… how…?’

‘I had a look at the information you found on the computer, about Puerta Madrid—’

‘ _Puerto Madryn_.’

‘Yeah, that. Thought it’d be fun to take the kids since we’re in the area. I know this isn’t exactly your type of holiday and you’re doing this for the rest of us, so I wanted to do that for you, too.’

‘Oh… well, this has been really…’ Ron gave her a look and Hermione laughed. ‘You’re right, it hasn’t been an incredibly exciting holiday for me. Thank you.’

She grabbed the collar of his jacket and pulled him down for a kiss, her toes curling inside her slippers when Ron, ignoring the whistling kettle, responded with as much enthusiasm as his plan seemed to give him.

‘So, um…’ she said as he turned to continue his breakfast preparations. ‘Are Harry and Ginny coming, too?’

‘Uh—no,’ Ron said, scratching the back of his head and looking embarrassed. ‘I thought I’d let them know right before we go just so they don’t worry. I wanted it to be the four of us. You think that’s too—?’

‘It’s a great idea,’ Hermione reassured him, feeling slightly guilty as well but mostly relieved at the prospect of some private family time. ‘They’ll understand.’

‘Okay, go get the kids ready, we have to reach a Portkey at seven thirty!’ Ron urged her.

‘Fine, Mr. Secret Plans!’ Hermione said, hopping off the table and smacking his bum playfully as she walked past.

‘Oi!’

Hermione felt excitement bubbling up in her stomach as she pulled thick sweaters and puffer jackets out of a trunk. Whales! They were going to see real whales, in the ocean! Of all the trips she’d made, with her parents and then with Ron, she hadn’t had the chance to do that. And the fact that it was Ron the one who had thought of it was unsurprising to her, but it said a lot about the kind of man she'd married. Half the wizarding population, at least, especially pure-bloods, had no interest in animals that didn’t spit fire or disappear on the spot, even if they were fascinating creatures in their own right.

‘Wake up, Rosie, Hugo,’ she said, moving from her eldest daughter on the top bunk to her baby of six, curled up below, who whimpered and rolled over.

‘Mum? We have to get up?’ Rose asked sleepily, and Hermione regretted that Ron hadn’t told her in advance of his plans. They hadn’t stayed up so late, but she would have sent both kids to bed much sooner if she’d known.

‘Yes, sweetheart, we’re going on a little trip.’

Not unlike what Hermione had done less than half an hour ago, that made Rose sit up in bed while her mother tried to coax Hugo awake.

‘A trip? Where?’

‘We’re going to see whales,’ Hermione told her, and then, pulling Hugo out of his pyjamas, ‘Do you know what whales are, Hugo?’

‘Wow!’ Rose exclaimed, climbing off her bed. ‘I know what whales are! Hugo, they’re really HUGE and have these big mouths—remember when we saw Pinocchio?’

Hugo blinked slowly as Hermione struggled to dress him up, too sleepy to process this information.

‘That’s right, love, but whales are not exactly like in Pinocchio, they’re quite friendly. Please get dressed. I left your clothes over there, and go brush your teeth!’

When all three of them were ready for breakfast, they joined Ron. He pressed a cup of tea into Hermione’s hands before picking up Hugo, swirling him around and setting him giggling on a chair.

‘Daddy, we’re going to see whales?!’ Hugo screeched, now properly excited.

‘We are, Hugh,’ Ron said brightly, messing Hugo’s brown mop.

‘So, what’s the exact plan?’ Hermione insisted, prodding at his ankle with her toe as she bit into a toast.

‘We need to meet Percy for our Portkey, it’ll take us to a local contact who arranges tourist trips for magical folks,’ Ron explained, pushing a smiley-face pancake in Rose’s direction. ‘I think we take a car there to the sea, then a boat.’

‘You really did your research, didn’t you?’ Hermione said with a smirk. Ron laughed.

‘In all these years I’ve learned a thing or two, and one of those is that you hate improvising, love.’

‘You know me too well.’

Ron winked at her over his mug of hot chocolate.

‘This bloke is just a link, though, we’ll be sharing the trip with Muggles. You know what that means, right, Rose, Hugo?’

‘We can’t talk about magic,’ Rose said with a serious face.

‘But Daddy, you can bring your wand and keep it hidden, can’t you?’ Hugo asked, alarmed. ‘What if the whale wants to eat our boat!’

* * *

Their Portkey took them to a cabin, where they met their Argentinian contact and a second wizarding family from Chile. After all introductions and explanations were given, their guide drove them all to a reserve in a vehicle they called “4x4”—Ron spent half the trip asking about the differences with regular cars, but when he turned to Hermione with an exciting thought in mind, before he could even open his mouth she said, ‘No we won’t, Ron.’

Once there, they put on life jackets and water-proof capes along with the group of Muggles they met there before climbing into the boat, the security garments a novelty that made it really difficult for Rose and Hugo not to mention the word “magic”.

Even after his parents and the tour guides’ reassurance that the whales were harmless, Hugo still asked Ron to let him sit on his shoulders and spent a good ten minutes into the boat ride holding on to Ron’s neck so tight he could barely swallow. Hermione rubbed comforting circles on their little boy’s back, herself clutching an impressed Rose’s hand, until Hugo loosened his stranglehold on Ron. That was until the boat stopped, and a grey, lumpy back broke the surface of the water, foam splashing against it. It took several minutes of calming words and seeing that the whales weren’t going to swallow the boat for Hugo to climb down his father’s neck and hold Rose’s hand instead, allowing Ron and Hermione to finally relax and take in the sight before them.

Hermione leaned against Ron, their layers of puffy clothing causing her to bounce back a little and making Ron laugh as he put his arms around her. The bright blue of the sea contrasted with the still light morning sky: several giant tails surfaced all around them, accompanied with spray whenever the creatures breathed—Rose and Hugo went ‘ _Oooh_ ’ when a rainbow appeared in the mist.

‘Thanks for planning this, Ron,’ Hermione said with a content sigh, pausing from taking pictures and watching the whales’ graceful movements to look up at him. ‘This is—’

‘Magical,’ he finished, lowering his head to rest his chin on Hermione’s shoulder. And even though there wasn’t real magic involved, Hermione had to agree.


	22. Things you said while we were driving

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N:** All right! Chronologically, this is the last one-shot that I wrote for this series, making for a total of 22 fics. There were actually 24 prompts, which means there are two left. I had every intention of using one of them to write about something set way before this one in time, but as you might have noticed, my head has been focused on a different ship for the past months, which makes it difficult for me to focus on Ron and Hermione (and I'm really very sorry about this), so I couldn't make it and just kept posting the fics I had. However, I plan on writing at least one more in the upcoming weeks, and that will be the last in the series.
> 
> Nothing to worry about, though! Most of the stuff I've written since 2014 and all of what I might still write can happily coexist in the same universe; these are put together only because they're based on the same set of prompts.
> 
> Thanks a lot to everyone who has read and taken the time to review! If you liked this, maybe it's time for you to leave a comment! Remember that fandom creators don't get any other form of payment, yet they give their time and skills for free for your entertainment :)
> 
> Finally, I wrote this one in February and you can see how strong my new obsession was already. If you haven't watched Star Wars: The Force Awakens and for some inexplicable reason have remained unspoiled as an angel butt so far, stop reading. To Han Solo.
> 
>  **Rating:** G

The dirt roads that surrounded The Burrow were only very occasionally frequented, which made them a perfect spot for driving practice. However, that also meant that Hermione’s student was less inclined to pay attention at what he was doing.

‘Don’t do that, Ron!’ she snapped when he swerved sharply, as if trying to avoid a hole. ‘You need to be gentler.’

‘Sorry,’ he said, his eyes focused on the road and face screwed up in concentration. Soon afterwards, though, another swerve jostled her to a side—

‘Ron! What on earth are you doing?’ Hermione shouted, exasperated.

‘Uh… meteorite,’ Ron said, looking a mix of embarrassed and amused, as he seemed to be trying not to laugh.

‘What meteorite?’ Her heart sped up on instinct, but her brain knew it was ridiculous. A _meteorite_?

‘The one that was about to hit the _Millennial Falcon_ ,’ he answered, finally breaking into a grin, though he was not meeting her eye.

‘Are you serious?’ she asked, scowling and turning to face him as much as the seat belt allowed. Of all the times he chose to be a fanboy…

She had introduced Ron to _Star Wars_ many years ago. She hadn’t seen the movies herself before more than in passing, as it wasn’t her preferred genre, but she’d had to admit the plot itself was very interesting. Ron had been fascinated. They had recently bought the DVD of the latest movie and watched them all again with the kids, and it seemed to have brought back Ron’s enthusiasm.

‘First of all, it’s the _Millennium_ _Falcon_ ,’ she corrected for the thousandth time as they kept driving through the solitary road. For all his adoration of the series, he usually got the words mixed up. ‘Second and most importantly, you can’t goof around when you’re driving! This isn’t a broomstick, _or_ a spaceship, that go up in the air; the possibilities of crashing in a car are much greater!’

‘I know, Hermione, I’m not going to do this when I’m actually driving.’

‘You’re _actually driving_ right now!’

Ron waved a hand.

‘Yeah, but there’s no one around.’ He turned briefly to her to give her a smile. ‘Come on, lighten up.’

She didn’t relent.

‘How can you expect to pass your driving test before next year if you don’t take your practice seriously? This was your idea; I thought you’d put some effort in it!’

Ron frowned. That was her frustration at him not doing things her way blurting out, they both knew it. Over the years, they had got better at reading the other to know when the hurt was intended and when it wasn’t, and talking it out.

‘I _am_ putting some effort,’ he said, slowing the car and parking roughly on a side of the road. ‘You’ve been teaching me enough that I think going to a driving instructor will be for show, and I’ve got plenty of time to get better!’

They had bought a car a year after Rose had been born so Hermione could move around with the baby more comfortably. She had taught Ron how to drive back then; this wasn’t the first time they ventured through these kinds of back roads. But he’d never seen the use of getting a license, especially as it involved extra procedures with the Ministry of Magic given that he didn’t have a Muggle ID card. With Rose going off to Hogwarts next year, he’d changed his mind: Ron wanted to drive his family to King’s Cross.

When she’d realised he was set on that prospect, Hermione had insisted on brushing up his lessons personally, on top of sending him off with a proper driving instructor. Ron hadn’t objected much, and she had to admit she was being unfair: he was taking all of this really seriously.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said, letting out a breath. She placed a hand on his shoulder and he looked at her. ‘I didn’t mean that; I know you are. Swerving makes me very nervous, that’s all.’

‘Yeah, sorry about that,’ Ron apologised in turn, patting her thigh. He switched on the ignition and they were moving again, a little more slowly.

‘The _Millennium Falcon_ , huh?’ Hermione said after a while, teasing. She knew full well who Ron’s favourite Star Wars character had always been, as she had been part of several conversations on that subject over the years. ‘Does that mean you feel better about… you-know-what?’

Ron’s mood suddenly became gloomy.

‘I thought we’d agreed to ignore that forever and ever.’

Hermione had to cover her mouth with her hand to stop herself from giggling. A year ago, in a dark cinema, Ron’s heart had been broken. Han Solo’s fate had made her incredibly sad, too, but he had taken it harder. She was sure he had been close to tears the other night while they relived it on the DVD.

‘Forever and ever, darling,’ she said solemnly. ‘Han Solo lives in you.’

Her husband laughed at that and took his eyes off the road to wink at her. Although he lacked a likeness to Harrison Ford (not that Hermione had anything to complain about), Ron at least had one thing in common with the space pirate: they were both crazy for short, brown-eyed girls who bossed them around.

‘Thank you, _sweetheart_.’


	23. Things you said after you kissed me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my contribution to Romione Week at [hpshipweeks](http://hpshipweeks.tumblr.com/), and it’s what happens when you put a bunch of prompts together and try to make it work. First, this is one of the two prompts I had left for the “Things You Said” series. Second, it features Ron and Hermione arguing (sort of) about parenting stuff. Third, an anon told me once they’d like to see R/Hr getting emotional about Rose growing up. Also making a cameo in this episode are a SW reference and a sentence prompt about rain. I apologize in advance for the existential-dread-plus-fluff-minus-plot that is this story. Thank you **jenahid** for giving this a read!

Hermione pulled her cardigan tighter against her as she and Ron stepped out into the nocturnal Autumn air.

‘Rosie’s classmates’ parents must think we’re antisocial,’ Ron commented, wrapping an arm around Hermione’s shoulders and rubbing his hand up and down her upper arm. ‘Or that we’re sending her to a really selective school and we don’t want to share the secret.’

‘Or that we _really_ don’t know where she’s going yet and we’re terrible parents,’ Hermione added with a sigh.

They were coming back from a parent’s evening at Rose’s school, and as it was her last year before secondary school, the conversations kept coming back to where everyone would be sending their kids to the coming year. And for obvious reasons, they couldn’t say their daughter was going to Hogwarts. A wizarding school up in Scotland. Because Rose was actually a witch.

‘We should have agreed on any Muggle school and say that, then,’ Ron said, forcing himself to walk slowly for Hermione’s sake. ‘What difference would it make? Any of those kids happen to go to the same place next year, they’ll just think we chose someplace else. Or moved out of the country.’

‘Yes… I suppose that’s right. Next time someone asks, we’ll do that.’

They stopped at a crosswalk until the traffic light went green, then got moving again.

‘You think you’ve got better at lying to Muggles—and _bam!_ An unexpected lying situation happens.’

Hermione frowned, but she couldn’t bite back a half-snort, half-chuckle. ‘You say it like we do it for sport.’

‘Come on, you know what I mean. And sometimes, it is fun,’ Ron said, bumping his hip against her.

‘Ron, it was _not_ fun when you told Rose’s reception teacher that your family was from Alderaan,’ Hermione said sternly, cringing at the memory.

‘That was years ago! Besides, everyone laughed, thought it was a joke!’

‘Mhm, and thank Merlin for that. Let’s hurry, I still have to get Hugo a box of colouring pencils and Rose needs a new pair of tights. It looks like it’s going to pour down any second now.’

They went into a store for Hugo’s colouring pencils and extra notebooks, then into another for Rose’s tights and a supply of socks for everyone. Ron heard another sigh as Hermione tucked the pack of tights into her oversized bag. (She had replaced her tiny beaded bag that hid impossible depths after Rose was born and they started moving more frequently between the Muggle and the wizarding world. ‘It’s going to look very suspicious if I go around with a baby carrying only an evening bag. I wouldn’t be able to pull anything out of it in public and people will think I’m a bad mother.’)

‘What is it?’ Ron asked.

‘Oh, I was just thinking… Rose is very excited about next year, but I don’t think she’s realised yet how much of a change going to Hogwarts will be for her.’

‘Well—yeah… it’s hard for everyone, going off to boarding school, not seeing your family for months—’

‘Not just that.’ Hermione closed her handbag and slipped an arm through Ron’s. ‘She won’t be able to go to her dance classes anymore.’

Ron gave her a sideways glance. ‘I think she’ll get over it, love.’

‘She loves her dance classes!’

‘I know she does, but,’ Ron shrugged, ‘she’ll have new stuff to do at Hogwarts.’

‘This isn’t just about the class, Ron,’ Hermione said with some irritation.

‘You _just said_ —’

‘I know what I said! I know,’ Hermione added, softer this time. ‘What I’m trying to say is that she… she’ll have to give up part of her life when she goes to Hogwarts. You see, witches and wizards who come from Pure-blood families, and most who are Half-bloods, grew up in contact exclusively with the wizarding world. They didn’t go to Muggle school, or have extracurricular activities… they didn’t have friends they wouldn’t be able to see again, or that they’d have to lie to when they asked questions.’

‘Oh,’ Ron said, understanding at last. He looked at her again. ‘Is that how you felt? Like you were giving up part of your life?’

Hermione shook her head, tilting to one side to let other passers-by through without releasing Ron’s arm. When there was no one near, she said, ‘Since my parents and I had no clue I was a witch, I grew up thinking I was a freak—not that they didn’t try to assure me I wasn’t. Even though I had after-school activities, I didn’t exactly feel great around other kids. Hogwarts felt like a new start for me.’

‘But Rosie grew up knowing who she was and going back and forth between these two worlds,’ Ron added, nodding vaguely and rubbing a hand across his jaw. ‘Yeah. I get it. It’ll be hard for her.’

‘I _wanted_ her to be part of both worlds,’ Hermione said, an anguished frown forming between her eyebrows. ‘I know it was the right thing, sending her to school, encouraging her to make friends, having her engage in what is half of her culture. I just never stopped to think she’d have to leave it behind, one day.’

Ron squeezed her hand. ‘We’ll make sure the transition isn’t that hard. We can tell her she doesn’t have to cut ties with her old friends if she doesn’t want to, she can invite them over when she’s home for the holidays. If we have to make up an elaborate lie about how we’re both secret agents who have to move all over the world to explain why Rose can’t tell them about school,’ Ron said, putting a serious face and a hand over his heart, ‘so be it.’

‘You’d love that, wouldn’t you?’ Hermione said, laughing. Ron grinned as they kept walking. After a while, Hermione became pensive again. ‘I can’t believe she’s already going to Hogwarts. Our babies are growing up so fast…’

‘Too fast,’ Ron agreed. ‘It’s ridiculous.’

‘It’s _unfair_ ,’ Hermione stated. She looked up at Ron’s profile. ‘I didn’t feel this way when we were at school, but it’s as if… as if there comes a point in your life when time just flies by. Sometimes I feel like we’re rushing through life. Even now—look at us! We’re running from one place to the next; we’re talking, but we’re thinking of what we’re doing next—’

‘Are you suggesting we should slow down?’ Ron asked, unable to contain a smirk. He knew what Hermione meant: he, too, sometimes felt as if life didn’t use to move as fast as it now seemed to do. When he thought about it, he couldn’t believe it had already been eighteen years since the battle of Hogwarts, fourteen since he’d married Hermione, and ten since he’d become a father. Still, Hermione was the one who _literally_ rushed through life. It usually took a little coaxing from Ron for her to stay still for two minutes and relax—he’d become very good at it over the years.

‘Yes,’ Hermione said, and Ron felt a tug on his arm as she drastically slowed down.

‘Uh… I didn’t mean right now, love,’ Ron said, looking up at the darkening sky.

‘Why not?’

‘What, you want to stop and feel the rain?’

‘That doesn’t sound like a bad idea.’ Ron goggled at her and she returned his earlier smirk. ‘Or are you afraid of getting a bit wet? You’ve got two children, you can’t tell me you are.’

The first cold drops fell over their heads. Ron replaced his arm around her shoulders and, as he prompted her to walk—slowly this time, taking in this mundane but pleasant moment together—he planted a kiss on the top of her head.

‘You’re barmy.’

‘But you love me.’

‘ _And_ I love you.’


End file.
